


It's Only Reality

by MindNoise



Category: Adam Lambert (Musician), Tommy Ratliff (Musician)
Genre: Adam/Tommy AU, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-19
Updated: 2013-04-05
Packaged: 2017-11-19 01:32:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 29,646
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/567535
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MindNoise/pseuds/MindNoise
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Tommy has a drunken accident and wakes up in another reality.<br/>Existing between two realities, he will succumb to one, but which one? And is it real?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is gonna be dark at times. I'm not good w/ tags and warnings. This is NOT a deathfic. But Tommy's road isn't going to be easy or nice. So there's your warning. :)  
> Enjoy!
> 
> *disclaimer 1 - none of this happened
> 
> *disclaimer 2 - Tommy's mental institution is extreme and unconventional. I apologize to mental health care workers for anything that's inaccurate or offensive; this is not a slight on your professions, it's just for story purposes. If anyone has been a patient in a mental institution, you may not like this.

Tommy looks himself over in the mirror; blond hair brushed back and sprayed into place just right, eyeliner heavy and dark, lips pale and shiny. He turns to the right, then to the left, looking himself up and down to make sure his outfit of ripped jeans, gray glittery shirt, black jacket, and black boots looks haphazard yet chic enough for rock n roll. Adam is the main attraction but Tommy loves looking swanky enough to play beside the man whom fans dubbed “The Glam Father.”

His outfit is fine. He looks back at his face in the mirror. It’s not bad, he supposes. Pale, smooth skin without pores, with delicate features, defined lines, almond eyes.

Is this what he sees? Tommy wonders. What does he see when he looks at me?

He feels his pulse jumps nervously and he reaches for the lip gloss on the table. He doesn’t need any more but he suddenly needs to be doing something, to be killing time. He slathers on more on top of the two layers he’s already applied. He doesn’t even like lip gloss.

Adam is suddenly there, pushing himself shoulder to shoulder with Tommy at the mirror, preening himself one last time. Tommy didn’t even hear him walk into the room. Tommy watches him in the mirror, studies him. Adam is dressed in all black: leather pants, a tight fitting vest with no shirt, arm covers that spread from shoulder to wrist with long fringe attached underneath, leather boots, which will stay on a total of five minutes before Adam kicks them off. He’s so long and lean. So radiant, so unreal. So Adam. He reaches for the hair spray and glances at Tommy.

“Hold your breath,” he tells Tommy.

He closes his eyes and sprays, waving the can around his head. Setting the can down, he flaps his hands wildly to break up the heavy cloud he’s created.

“Showtime,” he beams at Tommy.

Tommy smiles back. He can’t help but smile back. It’s Adam. And he’s in love with Adam. Only Adam doesn’t know it.

“You okay?” Adam asks.

Tommy’s eyes widen as he’s caught staring. “What do you mean?”

“You look kinda sick,” Adam’s tone is concerned. “Like you don’t feel well all of a sudden.”

“No,” Tommy brushes off Adam’s comment. “No way, I’m fine.”

Of course Tommy’s sick. Lovesick. It sucks being in love with someone who doesn’t know you’re not as straight as he thinks, who may not want you even if he did know. Of course, Tommy hasn’t given anyone reason to think he’s gay or bi or whatever label of the year people want to put on it. He’s always dated girls. Nobody, including Tommy himself, ever thought Tommy would have the hots for a man. That was before Adam barged into his life, all glittery and fierce, and now...

“Alright, if you’re sure,” Adam says warily.

Tommy’s sure. Adam puts an arm around him and they head for the stage.

 

“Oh dude, that was a killer show,” Isaac slurs in Tommy’s face.

Tommy, as drunk as his drumming buddy, laughs with glee. “Fuck yeah!”

Tommy and Isaac congratulate each other on music well played all the way over to the small bar for more drinks. The hotel suite is packed with band members and tour staff, Adam’s PR staff, friends and family. This is Adam’s private after party.

Tommy long since shed his jacket, after the show to be exact. It’d been hot on stage with all the lights and Adam’s energy, and it was hot in this suite that was wall to wall bodies, and the alcohol coursing through his veins. He was burning up. He wipes his forehead with the back of his hand.

“Where’d Adam get to?” he wonders aloud.

“Uh,” Isaac looks around at the crowd. “I think he went to his room upstairs.”

“Room upstairs?” Tommy asks. “This is his party, why’s he upstairs?”

Isaac sips his drink slowly, shifting his eyes away from Tommy.

“What?” Tommy prods.

“Well, he… you know,” Isaac looks uncomfortable.

“I know what?” Tommy’s irritation rises. He also feels a tingle of panic at the edge of his spine. He’s pretty sure he’s not going to like what Isaac’s about to say.

“He walked out with that guy he’s been seeing,” Isaac blurts out. “They went upstairs, that’s all I know.”

Tommy feels himself root to the spot, the noise in the room fading out. He swallows and it gets stuck in this throat. He looks down at the cup in his hands. He wants to leave. He wants to run. He wants to hide.

“Man, when are you gonna tell him?” Isaac sighs.

“Tell who what?” Tommy replies absently.

“Adam. Who the fuck do you think I mean?” Isaac snaps. “When are you gonna tell him you love him?”

Tommy looks around; he wants out of here. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh my god, I can see it, Tommy,” Isaac says. “I’m right, aren’t I?”

Tommy sets his cup down and starts to walk away.

Isaac grabs his arm. “No. No walking away. It’s time you own this.”

“What do you want me to say?” Tommy snaps. “What am I supposed to do?”

“Uh, tell him, smart guy,” Isaac says.

“I can’t do that,” Tommy tells him.

“Why the fuck not?”

“Well for one thing, he’s my boss,” Tommy states.

“So?” Isaac retorts. “You worried that you’ll be fired if it doesn’t work out? Adam’s not like that and you know it. Next?”

“He thinks I’m straight,” Tommy says.

“And he’ll keep on thinking that unless you say something,” Isaac answers.

Tommy huffs and rolls his eyes.

“Dude, he’s bound to suspect on some level,” Isaac tells him. “The way you look at him, react to him on stage, which, by the way, you’re doing off stage, too. Come on, Tommy.”

“What if he doesn’t want me?” Tommy finally puts into words what’s been eating at him. “And all the stage antics really are just for show? What if I’m not what he wants at all?”

Isaac laughs. “You’re so fucking blind.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Adam’s so into you it’s disgusting,” Isaac says. “Always has been.”

Tommy feels his hope rising. He hates that. Hope is an uncertain, rocky terrain that can be crushed quicker than it came.

“How about the obvious, then. He’s dating someone,” Tommy says.

“They haven’t been together that long” Isaac counters. “It can’t be serious.”

“What the hell do you think they’re doing upstairs, playing cards?” Tommy spits.

“I don’t have a clue what they’re doing up there and neither do you,” Isaac says. “But time’s wasting, friend. Tell him before it really is too late.”

Tommy turns back to the bar, asking for two shots of Patron. He downs them both in quick succession.

He smiles at Isaac, “Liquid courage.”

Tommy hasn’t eaten since early afternoon and the shots, on top of the booze he’s already consumed, hit his brain fast. He begins to giggle.

“What’s funny?” Isaac asks, laughing too. “What are we laughing at?”

“I’m gonna go tell my boss I love him and probably get my heart ripped out,” Tommy snorts.

Isaac stops laughing and pulls Tommy into a hug.

“It’s gonna be okay,” he says in Tommy’s ear. “Adam wouldn’t hurt you for the world, you know that. Don’t be afraid of him.”

Tommy sighs against his shoulder.

“You’re right,” he says, pulling back. “I can’t keep this in anymore. I’m gonna do it.”

Resolved, Tommy turns around, facing the crowd.

“I forgot where the door is,” he says, wobbling.

Isaac snickers.

Loud conversation coming from outside the open door to the balcony. Squeals and laughter. One voice is familiar above all to Tommy’s ears. That lilt, that laugh. Adam’s on the balcony. Tommy pushes his way through the throng of people. How does Adam know so many fucking people?

He makes it onto the balcony and looks around, his heart slamming in his chest. The adrenaline combined with the alcohol makes him giddy and impatient. He has to see Adam. Now. He looks around. No Adam. But Tommy knows he heard Adam. He hears Adam now, laughing.

“Tommy!” Adam shouts.

Tommy keeps looking around, confused but giggling. Where is Adam hiding?

Another laugh that is distinctly Adam.

“Look up, glitterbaby,” Adam shouts.

Tommy looks up to the balcony above him, and smiles. Adam is leaning over the rail, waving at him.

“Adam,” he calls up. “I have to talk to you. It’s important.”

“Sure, baby,” Adam responds, drunk and sated. “You know I’m here for you.”

“I wanna talk now,” Tommy feels jittery and desperate. This is it. He’s going to tell Adam how he feels.

Tommy grabs the railing of his balcony, still staring up at Adam.

Adam laughs. “Well, hang on. I’ll be down in a minute.”

No. This can’t wait a minute. It’s waited too many minutes already. It can’t wait another.

Tommy faces the balcony, looking out over it. Oh shit. He hates heights. He’s only three stories off the ground, but it’s still a long way down in his acrophobic opinion. But alcohol and crazed adrenaline make him feel invincible. This is for Adam. He braces his feet on the bottom rail, his hands grasping the top rail. He pushes his weight upward while looking back at Adam.

“No, now,” Tommy slurs. “I have to tell you something.”

When Tommy twists and sits on the top railing, Adam’s smile falters.

“Tommy, you’re gonna fall,” Adam warns. “Get down. Let me come to you.”

Ignoring him, Tommy lurches upward, his feet on the top railing, his hands grasping the bottom of Adam’s balcony. He hears shrieks of surprise below him.

“I wanna tell you,” he says. “Adam...”

Adam drops his cup and crouches down, reaching through the metal bars and grabs Tommy’s wrists.

“Fuck, Tommy, get down,” Adam is alarmed and suddenly sober. “Tommy Joe, get down!”

“I need to tell you...,” Tommy whines, kicking his feet, trying to propel himself up to Adam’s balcony.

“Baby, I’ll come to you,” Adam says, fear in his voice. “I’ll come downstairs. I promise. And you can tell me. Tommy, please, you’re gonna fall.”

Tommy feels someone trying to grab his feet. He glances down.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Isaac shouts, trying to get hold of Tommy’s kicking legs.

“I’m talking to Adam,” Tommy tells him. He swings his feet out of reach. “Let go. I’m gonna tell him.”

He looks back up at Adam and smiles. “I love you.”

It must be written all over Tommy’s face and in his glazed, shining eyes that Tommy doesn’t mean as friends, that he means something more. Adam’s eyes widen as realization comes over him. He looks shocked but then he softens. He looks almost sad.

Tommy is still smiling, manages to pull himself up about an inch. Still looking up, mesmerized. Adam’s face is so pretty. But it’s getting further away. How is Adam doing that? Why is he screaming Tommy’s name? Why does he look so horrified?

 

Tommy opens his eyes. He’s staring at the night sky. It’s starless, moonless, but clear. He looks around, gingerly turning his head. He’s on the ground, flat on his back, outside the hotel. He looks up at the third story balcony he’d been standing on. He’d been trying to reach Adam on the fourth floor. He’d been climbing. His grip had slipped. Adam, who’d had a tenuous hold on his wrists to start, couldn’t hold on to him. He’d fallen. He always knew heights were a bad idea.

It’s cold. He’s freezing. The hotel is dark. No sign of life at all. He looks back at the sky. A light streaks down from the black sky. Tommy winces, closing his eyes on instinct. The light comes and goes. It’s almost meteoric, and it startles him. Scares him. Something’s off. Something’s not right.

The sound of an echoing rip fills his ears. It reverberates through his head and he sees the world shift slightly to the left, making him feel dizzy even though he’s lying down. Slowly, he sits up. His head hurts. He’s so cold. He sluggishly gets to his feet and takes in the world around him. It’s deserted.

“Adam?” he calls, his voice scratchy and weak.

Everything looks so lifeless. The grass is brown and dead, the trees’ bare branches droop and sag. They were full of leaves earlier. What the hell happened to them?

There is no sound anywhere. No noise of nature, or traffic, or humans…. nothing. It reminds him of those post-apocalyptic movies. A dead world makes no sound. He stumbles forward toward the hotel.

“Adam?” he calls again. His voice doesn’t even echo. The sound just falls flat. “Isaac?”

A wind begins to blow. He can hear voices in it. Whispers.

As he approaches the hotel, he can see that it’s abandoned, crumbling. Tommy feels lightheaded. The wind blows harder. How could Adam leave him here?

He stops walking, wrapping his arms around himself. He’s trying not to panic.

The voices in the wind become a little clearer, but remain disjointed.

“Coming out...”

Tommy’s vision blurs and he’s scared. Where is Adam? Where is Isaac? Where is anybody?

“.....out...”

“Adam!” he screams.

The scene around him wavers.

“Who is...” someone asks.

“......delusion...”

“Where are you?” Tommy cries, tears slipping down his cheeks.

“.....needs an...”

Tommy’s balance tilts and he falls to the ground. Even though there’s solid ground under him, he still feels like he’s falling.

“...out of it...”

“Adam!” he shouts again.

Tommy is short of breath and his chest hurts. The wind is making him much colder than he already is and it stings. He closes his eyes.

“He’s coming out of it.” It’s the first complete sentence he’s heard.

“.....out of it..... he’s coming out of it....out..”

“What now?” a woman asks. She continues asking the same question in a mad echo. “What now? Now? .... now now .... what now?”

Tommy groans. “Adam, help me.”

“Who’s he keep calling for?” another voice whispers.

“He’s delusional,” a man answers. “Thinks he’s a rock star.”

Tommy thinks he’s a rock star? He opens his eyes. The light above him is so blinding, bright as the sun, and his eyes immediately close again.

“Too bright,” he murmurs. “The light... hurts.”

“Come now,” a man says gruffly. “The light is fine. Open your eyes.”

He opens them slowly and looks around. Everything is so white. The walls, the ceiling, the light. The people surrounding him are dressed in stern white uniforms. With no contrast at all, the effect is severe.

“Where am I?” he asks.

“You don’t remember where you are?” the man asks.

“Who are you?” Tommy asks. “How did I get here?”

“A set back,” the man in the long, white coat announces to the others in the room. They immediately begin to write in their notepads.

“What are you talking about?” Tommy demands. “Who the fuck are you? What the fuck is going on?”

The man smirks down at Tommy. “If I told you all of that, then you’d never remember, would you? And then you’d never get better.”

Tommy is confused. “I didn’t know I was sick.”

The man sighs in exasperation. “You’re in a mental institution. Adam, as you see him in your mind, does not exist.”

Mental institution? This makes no sense at all to Tommy, but one statement stands out over that one.

“What do you mean he doesn’t exist?” Tommy demands, panic returning to the forefront. “What the fuck does that even mean?”

“It means, the real Adam wouldn’t do what you wanted him to, wouldn’t be what you wanted him to be,” the man says. “You built a fantasy around him in your mind and he refused to indulge it. And because of that you..... hurt him.”

“What?” Tommy is dumbfounded. This has to be a dream. “I would never hurt Adam.”

Why would he hurt Adam? He loves Adam. He couldn’t hurt someone he loves, especially not Adam.

“I wouldn’t,” he insists.

“Nevertheless, you did. And now you’re here, and you are under my care.” There is no compassion in the man’s voice.

So he’s a doctor, Tommy concludes.

Tommy tries to get off the table. The others in the room come at him, try to restrain him, which sends him into a full blown panic attack. Tommy screams for Adam and Isaac, even for his mom, as he fights those holding onto him.

“He’s out of control,” the doctor declares with authority.

“EST?” a random voice asks.

“EST,” the doctor agrees. “We’ll never make progress without it. In fact, we’ve gone backwards.”

Two burly men the size of mac trucks rush at Tommy. One brandishes a needle and jabs it into Tommy’s arm. The room spins. A roar builds in his ears and he blacks out.


	2. chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy has a drunken accident and wakes up in another reality.  
> Existing between two realities, he will succumb to one, but which one? And is it real?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *again, none of this is real. i do not claim to be an expert in psychology or mental health. tommy's mental institution is extreme and unconventional. this is for story purposes only.*

Tommy awakens to bright lights again. His brain is groggy but as the memory of what happened comes back, he begins to struggle. But he can’t get up. He tilts his chin so he can glance down, and sees that he’s strapped to a table by his legs and wrists. He tries calling out but there’s something in his mouth. It’s hard and fits between his teeth so he can’t close his mouth.

Something cold touches his left temple and he jerks away. Hands come from nowhere and hold his head still. With a stone face, the nurse applies a cold gel to each temple, then fixes small metal plates on both sides of his head, securing them with a strap. Tommy is completely immobile. The nurse moves out of sight and the hands release his head. He hears a whirring. It fills Tommy’s panic stricken mind.

“Let’s try 240 volts to start,” the doctor’s voice floats up from somewhere in the room, clinical and disembodied.

Before Tommy can register what the doctor is saying, his body snaps upward and stiffens. His jaws clamp down on the object in his mouth. It seems to go on forever and when it’s finally over, he collapses back onto the table, breathing hard. Water leaks from his eyes and the corners of his mouth.

He doesn’t have time to regain his senses before he hears the doctor order, “Again.”

Tommy’s body convulses against the restraints. It hurts. His muscles feel as though they’re being pummeled and his bones scraped from the inside. Again, the electricity induced seizure seems like it’ll never end and then it releases him. He gasps for air around the object in his mouth. The nurse reappears and begins unhooking him from the machine, from the table. Why not? Tommy can’t move. His muscles are mushed jelly. His brain is numb. He’s no threat to anybody right now. The doctor appears, hovering over him. Tommy’s already on the verge of blacking out but he feels a prick in his arm, which speeds up the encroaching darkness.

When he regains consciousness again, he finds himself in a darker, smaller room. He’s lying on a thin cot. Thankfully, he’s not strapped down. He slowly sits up, his vision swimming. He feels beaten up from the inside, like he’s one giant internal bruise.

There’s no other furniture in the room save the cot he’s sitting on. The room is concrete from floor to ceiling. It holds no warmth. The bare light bulb hanging high over his head from the vaulted ceiling is dim; any light it offers is overpowered by the darkness. It really only illuminates the ceiling, the light barely reaching the floor. Tommy’s had enough of bright lights anyway.

He looks down at his clothes. He’s dressed in plain, pale blue cotton pants and matching button up shirt. The cloth is stiff and scratchy and smells of bleach. He wonders how many people have worn this garb before it was put on him. He doesn’t want to think about that.

He looks at the door. It looks solid. No way to break it down. There’s no handle or lock on his side, but he bets there’s a lock on the outside. There’s a rectangle cut out at eye level with a slat inserted that moves to the side, also from the outside only.

Isn’t this a fire hazard or something? he wonders.

No window, no door handle, locked in... this has to be some kind of code violation. Never mind a human rights violation. Although, judging from the bits and pieces he remembers of the doctor, the staff, and the shock treatment, human rights and patient safety are not anywhere on this institution’s priority list. If all of this is real, Tommy’s in a lot of trouble.

He puts his bare feet on the floor. The concrete is cold and hard, sucking out any body heat he has left through his feet. He slowly raises himself off the bed, testing his balance. His head swims, his stomach rolls, and he sits back down again, feeling his bones and muscles turn weak as water. He lets out a heavy breath. How the hell did he get here? Is this a dream? Is he on drugs and taking a weird trip? Because this can’t be real. No way any of this is real. His muscles beg to differ.

He hears screaming. It’s distant. It’s cut off abruptly with a squeak but the terror underneath it lingers. He concentrates on trying to hear anything more. Anything to discern what is going on and how he might get out of this nightmare. He hears nothing else. It’s as if the world outside his room has disappeared and there’s no one left. Still in a cloud of confusion and shaky, Tommy wraps his arms around himself, trying to retreat into his mind, find his way back to Adam. There has to be a way back to his life. This can’t really be it.

It feels like hours have passed when the door opens. The doctor marches into the room and Tommy sees two large orderlies standing outside the door, just waiting for him to step out of line. One of them is holding a long object. Tommy thinks it might be a bat. The hallway is bathed in a red light, which spills into his room from the open door. Red lights in a mental institution? It’s cliché yet sort of disturbing.

“How are you feeling?” the doctor asks, looking down at Tommy.

“Tired,” Tommy answers. “I hurt.”

“Where is the pain?”

“My head,” Tommy answers. “Everywhere. My mouth hurts.”

The doctor nods. “It’s from the shock treatment. Your mouth aches from the mouth guard we put in so you wouldn’t crush your teeth or bite off your tongue. It’ll all pass.”

“Why are you doing this to me?” Tommy asks.

“Still think you’re a rock star?” the doctor quips.

The orderlies snort and glance at each other, amused. Tommy shoots them his best withering glare which probably doesn’t even make it across the room.

“Here, I’ll prove you’re not a rock star or any other kind of musician,” the doctor says.

He motions toward the orderlies. The one with the bat walks into the room, and Tommy sees that it’s not a bat but a guitar. The bulky orderly hands it over to the doctor, who turns back to Tommy and holds it out.

“Play,” he commands.

Tommy’s confused. “Now?”

“Yes, now,” the doctor says. “If you’re a musician, play.”

Tommy hesitates, then reaches for the guitar. He can barely hold it up, his arms are so weak. He manages to keep it from falling to the floor and props it up in his lap, trying to wrap his fingers around it. It takes him a few minutes to get his fingers set just right on the strings. He can barely remember how to do it. The doctor waits patiently. When Tommy finally strums his fingers down, the exertion is painful and exhausting. His fingers can’t seem to coordinate and hang on, and the guitar strings screech. He looks up at the doctor, who gazes down at him blankly. Tommy grips the guitar tighter, then reminds himself to relax. He tries again with the same screeching result.

“One more time,” the doctor says.

Tommy bites his lip and sets his fingers on new chords. This time the strings sound like nails scratching across metal.

“See?” the doctor concludes. “No talent. You can’t even play one note. That’s not a musician, is it?”

Frustrated tears come to Tommy’s eyes as the doctor jerks the guitar from him, handing it back to the orderlies.

“I don’t feel well,” he protests.

“Nonsense,” the doctor says. “That has nothing to do with it. Guitarists have off days all the time and they don’t play like that, do they?”

“But...” Tommy starts.

“Do they?” the doctor cuts him off in a sharp tone. By the look on his face, Tommy guesses this isn’t the time or place to argue this point. Not yet.

“No,” Tommy whispers.

“So the problem is you,” the doctor states.

His expression is intense and Tommy realizes he’s supposed to confirm, so he nods.

“And why is that, Mr Ratliff?” he asks.

It hurts his soul to say it but he just wants to be out from under this man’s hateful glare. He wants to be left alone.

“I’m not a musician,” he mutters, looking down at the floor, at the red shadow stretching across the room.

“Correct,” the doctor states. “Now we’ll pick up your therapy sessions again tomorrow.”

“When can I leave?” he looks up, tears in his eyes. “I want to go home. I want to see Adam. Can I talk to Adam? Please?”

“Keep chanting that name and I’ll administer a long series of shock therapy treatments at a much higher voltage,” the doctor threatens. “Is that what you want?”

Tommy shakes his head, terrified. He doesn’t want that. It’s painful. He’s already having trouble remembering how he got here. More electricity in his brain couldn’t possibly help.

“We’ll do what we can for you, Mr Ratliff,” he states. “We have to try to heal your defective mind, but there are no guarantees.”

Tommy doesn’t know what he’s supposed to say so he keeps quiet.

“I must warn you, you are running out of time,” the doctor says. “If our treatments and therapies fail, we will proceed with the final solution.”

Tommy’s eyes widen. He doesn’t like the sound of that at all. And he’s too choked with fear to ask.

The doctor turns and marches out. The orderlies follow him like trained pit bull dogs, slamming the door shut, closing off the red light from the hallway. Tommy lets out a shaky breath. He pulls his feet up onto the bed, knees to chest, and hugs his legs.

Am I really here? he wonders. Is this place real? What is the final solution? Why do they insist I’m not a musician? Why can’t I talk to Adam? Is he okay?

The room is dismal, which makes Tommy feel miserable. He remembers cuddling with Adam on the bus or in hotel rooms. He’d put his ice cold feet under and in between Adam’s bare legs, more to hear Adam shriek and laugh at the same time than for the body heat. Although he loved the body heat, craved it, sought it out from Adam.

Adam.

He lays down and closes his eyes, trying not to cry.

I need you, Adam, he thinks. Please don’t leave me here, I’m scared. I need you. Please don’t leave me. That red light disturbs me.

 

Blurred voices. Fading in and out. No real words, just noise.

Not this again, he thinks.

He’s not ready to face this again. He squeezes his closed eyes tight, hoping to push himself back into the dark void that holds no voices, no faces, no dreams.

“I think he’s...” a soft voice moves closer.

Tommy tenses, moves his head to the side, away from the voice. He huffs out a breath.

“Nurse,” the voice says. “He’s waking up.”

“Tommy,” the voice says, even closer now. “Can you hear me?”

Tommy whimpers, tries to pull away.

“I need you to wake up.” The voice has a velvet soft quality. It’s concerned, relieved, caring. “Tommy.”

“Can’t,” Tommy murmurs. He hopes that’s sufficient explanation.

“Why not?” the voice pleads. It’s in his ear now. “Why not, baby?”

The endearment washes over him. The voice is familiar. How could he not recognize this voice that lights up every world it touches, especially his own?

“Adam,” he turns his head towards the voice, but he keeps his eyes closed. Does he dare hope?

“Yes, it’s Adam,” the voice sounds excited, almost tearful. “I need you to come back now. Can you do that for me? Can you open your eyes now?”

Tommy opens his eyes. The light is dim but warmer than the last place in which he woke. It has more of a yellow glow than stark white. Or red.

His eyes focus. There’s a face hovering over his, all freckles and blue eyes. Tommy tries to smile. He loves that face.

Adam’s anxious expression lightens into joy. His eyes sparkle.

“Hey, Sleeping Beauty,” he laughs. “Glad you could join us.”

Tommy dutifully chuckles - tries to - at Adam’s joke, but he can see Adam’s been worried for a long time. The dark circles around his swollen, sleep deprived eyes gives it away. His clothes are wrinkled and his hair has seen better styling days, too.

Tommy is so relieved to be in his rightful world. It was just a bad dream.

“What happened?” his voice croaks from misuse.

Adam’s smile fades. “Well, you uh... fell off the balcony at the party.”

Tommy frowns. “How did I fall off a balcony?”

Adam looks away from him, then back with a forced smile. “We can talk about it later. When you’re feeling better. Important thing is you’re awake.”

“Why did I fall off the balcony?” Tommy pushes. “I don’t like heights. How did I manage to fall off a balcony?”

“You...” Adam closes his mouth. He wants to get his words right, but he feels this isn’t the time or place.

“Tell me the truth, Adam,” Tommy says.

Adam looks back at him with a small smile.

“I was on the floor above you and you said you had something to tell me,” he said. “And you were drunk, we both were. You tried to climb up to my balcony, and you.... fell. Three stories.”

Tommy lets it sink in. He’d been climbing the balcony? He’d wanted to tell Adam....he had told Adam.... Oh shit.

Tommy gives Adam a nauseated smile. “Three stories, huh? No wonder my head hurts.”

Adam laughs a little too loudly at the joke.

The nurse bustles in, turning on more lights, and fondly shoos Adam to the side while she checks Tommy’s vitals.

“Your doctor is off duty right now,” she tells Tommy. “Back tomorrow morning. But the on-call doctor is here and he’ll come and speak with you in a few minutes.”

She leaves the room, turning off the overhead lights. Tommy looks over at Adam, who doesn’t seem to know what to do with himself now.

“How long have I been in here?” Tommy asks.

“Four days,” Adam tells him.

“You’ve been here the whole time,” Tommy states.

“How did you guess?”

“Because you look like hell,” Tommy smarts.

Adam laughs. The genuine, unique laugh that Tommy adores.

Adam’s laugh fades, his face falls, and he looks at Tommy. “Fuck, Tommy, I thought you were gonna die. I watched you fall, hit the ground… and you didn’t move... you were so still...”

His voice breaks and a tear falls from his eye. He swipes at it, trying to gather himself. Tommy is at a loss for words. He remembers what he told Adam before he fell. He isn’t ready to face Adam with that again. Maybe Adam didn’t hear him.

Adam regains his composure and smiles. “I knew you had a hard head, but damn,” he jokes.

Tommy chuckles.

Adam’s smile fades and he becomes serious again.

“I know this should probably wait, but…. about what you,” he’s interrupted by the door opening and a man in a white coat rushing in.

“Glad to see you’re awake, Mr Ratliff,” the doctor announces.

Tommy’s blood freezes. His eyes widen and he involuntarily shrinks back in the bed, as though he’s trying to get away. And he is definitely trying to get away.

“Mr Ratliff,” the doctor looks up from Tommy’s chart. “Are you alright?”

Tommy shakes his head. “No. No. No.”

“Tommy?” Adam is quickly at his side, taking his hand, rubbing his forehead.

Tommy moves his feet up the bed, pushing his body into a ball against the head of the bed.

Tommy whines, clutching Adam’s hand. He shakes. His whine turns to a scream. His eyes don’t leave the doctor.

The doctor. The one who was ‘treating’ him in his dream. That same doctor is now standing in front of him.

But it had been just a dream, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *side note about shock therapy - under normal circumstances, patients are sedated before treatment so they don't feel anything. they also only shock the patient once, not twice in a row. so you can see the extremity of tommy's situation in the institution. again, that's for story purposes only.*


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy has a drunken accident and wakes up in another reality.  
> Existing between two realities, he will succumb to one, but which one? And is it real?

“Tommy, what the hell?” Adam yells.

Tommy continues shrieking, still staring at the doctor who walked into his room. The same abusive and mean spirited doctor he encountered in what he thought was a dream. Tommy is trying to climb out of the bed, while Adam tries to keep him there.

“Tommy, you’re hooked up to stuff,” Adam said. “Stop, what the hell is the matter? Tommy!”

The doctor hurries to Tommy’s other side. “Mr Ratliff, please, calm down.”

He touches Tommy’s arm. Tommy shrieks and yanks the arm out of the doctor’s reach, kicking his leg out reflexively. His foot connects with the doctor’s arm. The doctor motions impatiently toward the door. Tommy turns to Adam.

“Adam, please,” he cries. “Don’t let him take me. Adam. You can’t leave me, please don’t leave me alone here.”

Adam looks terrified. “Nobody’s gonna hurt you. I’m not going anywhere. You’re okay, Tommy.”

The nurse and two hospital attendants march into the room. Tommy clings to Adam, kicking his legs again.

“You stay away,” he shouts. “I know who you are, don’t touch me!”

The attendants wrestle and pull Tommy across the bed by his legs. They begin strapping down his ankles to the bed. Tommy’s fists are knotted in Adam’s shirt, pulling Adam down to the bed with him. He’s still crying and pleading.

“Mr Ratliff,” the doctor says. “You have a concussion, please calm down.”

The attendants move to the head of the bed, one shouldering Adam aside. Tommy pulls on Adam’s shirt so hard the collar stays stretched out and limp when he’s forced to let go. They strap down his arms at the wrists as Tommy thrashes.

Adam looks lost.

Tommy can’t see him anymore. He panics, trying to lift his head and twist, trying to just see Adam.

“Adam, don’t leave,” Tommy shouts around an attendant. “Adam?”

“I’m not leaving,” Adam replies.

“Promise me,” Tommy cries. “Promise!”

“I promise,” Adam tells him. And he means it.

The nurse sticks a needle in Tommy’s IV. Tommy’s hoarse screams and fight grow quieter as the liquid flows through the tube and into his vein. The attendants and the nurse leave the room. The doctor has re-composed himself.

“Mr Ratliff, I don’t know what caused this episode, but you’ve been strapped down for your own protection and for the safety of the staff,” the doctor states. “The sedative is to keep you calm. You’ve had a traumatic fall, you’ve sustained a blow to the head, you need to stay calm.”

Tears are leaking from Tommy’s eyes. He tries to reach for Adam, but with his wrist strapped down, he can only lift his arm a couple of inches off the bed.

Adam takes his hand. “I’m here, baby. I’m still here.”

The doctor leaves.

Tommy’s eyes feel heavy. He’s exhausted from the exertion and panic. His throat hurts from yelling and his heart beat is palpable in his chest.

“What was that about?” Adam asked, brushing Tommy’s hair out of his face. “What happened?”

“Don’t let them hurt me again.” Tommy’s breath comes in hitches. His face is flushed and damp with tears and perspiration. He’s trying to fight the sedative.

“What? Nobody’s gonna hurt you,” Adam assures him, keeping his voice soothing.

“Don’t leave me,” Tommy’s eyes slip shut, but his grip on Adam’s hand tightens. “I love you. Don’t leave.”

“I love you, too,” Adam says. “I’m not going anywhere.”

“No,” Tommy whines. “The other way... I love...”

Tommy drops off to unconsciousness still holding Adam’s hand.

 

“....you.”

Tommy jerks awake. He’s sitting upright, in a chair. He’s disoriented. He blinks in an effort to take in his surroundings. He’s in an office, a bright, sunlit office. His eyes focus on the desk in front of him. The doctor leans back in a chair on the opposite side of the desk. Tommy screams.

The doctor looks startled. “Mr Ratliff, if you do not stop that screaming, I will have Jerry sedate you.”

Jerry, a thuggish looking orderly, steps into view. He fixes a haughty frown on Tommy. Tommy cuts off his scream with a squeak, eyes wide and darting around the room. How the fuck did he get back here? He was with Adam a minute ago. Wasn’t he?  
“You look confused,” the doctor says.

Tommy stares at him.

“Interesting,” the doctor mulls. “You look as though you just woke up and can’t figure out how you got here, even though we’ve been having a conversation for the last twenty minutes.”

Tommy continues to stare. He’s afraid to say anything. And yeah, he’s confused. He’s very fucking confused, fuck you very much, Dr Whack Job.

The doctor leans forward, laying his arms on the desk. “Tell me, where did you go?"

Tommy feels like crying. He feels like his mind is cracking like vase that's been dropped too many times. He doesn’t want to talk. He doesn’t want to answer questions or be told everything he thinks is real is actually false. He wants to go home. He wants to be left alone. Fuck, he’s tired.

“Mr Ratliff,” the doctor says with false amiability. “Tommy, we were having a conversation, then you suddenly looked as if you came to and said ‘you’ as though you were finishing a sentence. So your mind was obviously engaged somewhere else. Where? What were you doing? Who were you talking to?”

Oh dear god, I’m really here, Tommy thinks with a sinking feeling.

“Tommy?” The doctor expects him to answer, and Tommy can’t come up with anything creative except the truth.  
“I was with Adam,” he replies in a quiet tone.

“Adam,” the doctor states. “Okay. What were you two doing?”

Tommy fidgets in his chair. “I don’t remember.”

“How can you not remember?” the doctor scoffs. “You were just there, apparently. You had a conversation, did you not?”

Tommy shakes his head slightly. “Not really.” He doesn’t want to go into detail about being in another hospital and freaking out. He definitely doesn’t want to confide in this man about Adam.

“You said something,” the doctor badgers. “What was it?”

“I uh...said...” His stomach keeps bottoming out under the doctor’s stare. He looks down at his hands and picks at a fingernail and murmurs, “That I love him.”

The doctor doesn’t respond. Tommy finally drops his hands in his lap and looks up, meeting the impassioned gaze across the desk.

“Do you even remember why you’re here?” the doctor asks.

“Dude, I don’t even remember your fucking name,” he smarts. “I know nothing about this place.”

The doctor pinches the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes and sighing heavily.

“Dr Rhine,” he states.

Tommy sits up a little straighter. Now he’s getting somewhere. Now he has a little more info in this crazy ass dream. He’s still hoping this is whole thing is just a concussion induced nightmare.

“What do you remember about Adam?” Dr Rhine asks. “And not the Adam you just envisioned.”

Why is he putting it like that? Envisioned? How else would he remember Adam other than the Adam he knows?

“I don’t....” Tommy starts, but he really doesn’t know how to answer this question. It’s evident in his expression.

“How do you think of Adam? What person comes to mind?”

“He’s kind and thoughtful,” Tommy begins. “He’s quick to laugh and smile. He’s talented, charismatic, people love him. He’s.... he’s Adam.”

“Mhmm, and how do you feel about him? What’s your relationship.”

Tommy thinks they’ve already covered that part. “I love him.”

“As a friend or a lover?” Dr Rhine asks.

“I love him as my best friend,” Tommy answers. “And a boyfriend. He is my best friend.”

“Is he your boyfriend?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

“I just now told him...” Tommy is tired of this game.

“Does Adam have a boyfriend?”

Tommy nods. “Yeah, sort of. I mean, I don’t know how serious it is.”

“And now that you’ve told Adam you love him, do you think he will leave his boyfriend for you?”

Tommy gets the feeling Dr Rhine is placating him.

“I don’t know.” And he truly has no idea. He hopes that’s a possibility, but he doesn’t know.

“He will not,” Dr Rhine declares. “He did not.”

“What do you mean he did not?” Tommy barks. “What the hell does that mean?”

Tommy settles his tone when he sees Jerry the Thug focus a little harder on him. He forgot, somehow, that the goon was in the room. Apparently Dr Rhine did, too, as he glances behind him at Jerry, then motions the man out of the office. Jerry stalks out, but leaves the door open.

Doctor Rhine fixes his gaze back on Tommy. “You’ve already told Adam you loved him. He did not reciprocate.”

Tommy shakes his head. “That’s not true. Adam hasn’t said anything yet. I just told .....”

“Mr Ratliff,” he interrupts. “You told Adam once before how you felt about him. He did not feel the same. He refused to leave the man he was already dating. You became fixated on him, obsessed. Late one night, you two had been out at a nightclub, and, while driving home, you begged him to be with you and when he refused yet again, you ran the car off of a bridge. The car landed in the river. Adam saved you, Mr Ratliff. You tried to kill him and he saved you, managing to get you both free of the vehicle after it landed at the bottom of the river, and dragging you to shore. You would’ve been confined in prison for driving drunk and attempted murder, but Adam gave a heartfelt speech in your defense, asking that you be given mental help instead. And that, Mr Ratliff, is how you ended up here. You tried to kill the best friend whom you supposedly love so much, and he didn’t want to see you in prison.”

Tommy sits in shock. None of what Dr Rhine said is penetrating his brain. The tale he just spun could not be true. Ever.

“You’re wrong,” Tommy whispers. “So wrong. I would never...”

“I’m not and you did,” Rhine retaliates.

Tommy feels his chest tightening. His breathing became sharp and shallow. “Why? Why would I drive off a bridge? I would never hurt Adam.”

“You were drunk,” Dr Rhine says bluntly. “And you had a mind to drown Adam and yourself.”

“This is bullshit,” Tommy mumbled, more to himself than the doctor. “Lies and just bullshit.”

The doctor sighs as though the weight of the world rests on his shoulders. “You’re behaving as though you have no memory of that incident or this place. Now you’ve created a world for yourself in which you get the guy. What am I supposed to do with this, Mr Ratliff?”

“I don’t care what you do with it,” Tommy says angrily. “You’re a fucking liar. This place is a lie. None of this is real!”

“I see,” Dr Rhine says, deciding on something. “Well, maybe we should try the shock therapy again at a higher voltage.”

“No!” Tommy shouts.

“I’m afraid it’s the only way,” Dr Rhine concludes.

“You can’t,” Tommy stammers. “Isn’t that dangerous? Can’t you kill people that way?”

“The voltage we started with was the minimum,” Rhine explains. “It can go higher and not kill you.”

“What about brain damage?” Tommy tries to keep his voice under control and not sound as skittish as he feels. Anything to avoid being strapped to that table again, feeling metal plates secured to his head, hearing that hum of electricity. “You could damage my brain, then I’d never get better.”

The doctor chuckles. “Nice try, but I assure you, your brain will not be damaged. If we can remove your short term memory for a while, your sudden invention of your ideal relationship with Adam, then maybe you can refocus on what really happened and move on.”

“This is fucking crazy!” he yells.

He motions toward the door. “We have to fix you, Mr Ratliff.

Knowing what waits for him if these people get their hands on him again, Tommy’s fight takes over his better judgement. He bolts out of the chair and takes a dive at the man making his freedom and sanity impossible. The doctor backs up in his chair and Tommy crawls onto the desk, screaming, reaching for Dr Rhine. He feels strong hands tugging at him from behind, likely Jerry the Thug. Tommy picks up a paperweight in his left hand and swings around, connecting with Jerry’s ear. Jerry howls and backhands Tommy with a closed fist. It knocks Tommy across the desk and onto the floor. Before he can even process how he got onto the floor and what the ringing in his ears might be, he’s roughly lifted off the floor. He can’t stand on his own, the room is spinning. He can feel his right cheek has split open and is exploding with pain and swelling. It hurts all the way into his lower jaw.

The doctor comes toward him with a syringe, but trauma takes his consciousness before the medication.

 

He jolts awake, fighting and kicking, a scream caught in his throat. It’s dark and he can't see. He’s lying down and bound up. He must be on the shock therapy table. He has to get free. He can’t go through that again.

“Tommy,” someone says in a surprised, sleepy voice.

Tommy panics, still thrashing about, trying to get loose.

“Tommy, stop,” the voice says again, more alert now.

Hands find him and try to hold him down. All he can think is, no more. The scream caught in his throat finds its way out.

“Stop!” the voice shouts.

Tommy contracts into a ball, sobbing, his fight exhausted.

A light comes on. Tommy opens his eyes, afraid of what he’ll see but even more afraid not to see. And all he sees is blue. Blue fabric. When it’s lifted away, Tommy is met with a bleary but alarmed face as Adam pulls the sheet off his head.

“That must’ve been some dream,” Adam says, unwrapping Tommy. His flailing wound the blankets and sheet around him. He wasn’t tied down at all.

Tommy takes deep breaths of relief and groans.

Adam straightens him out and sits on the side of the bed. Tommy notices that not only is he not in the Twilight Zone reality, he’s not in the hospital either. He looks around. He knows only one person with taste and decor this edgy.

“I’m in your bedroom,” Tommy tells Adam.

“Yes,” Adam answers, brow furrowing, mouth smirking like this might be a joke he’s not aware of.

Tommy wants to ask why, but he doesn’t want Adam to think he doesn’t remember. Or that he’s crazy.

“I brought you here this morning,” Adam explains, reading his mind, making Tommy love him more. “I didn’t think you should recuperate alone, and.... we have things to... kind of talk about.”

Tommy’s never seen Adam unsure of himself. He is now and Tommy knows it’s because of his confession. Adam’s nervousness is really quite adorable and it relaxes Tommy some.

“But it can wait,” Adam says, waving his hand at nothing. “Til you’re feeling better.”

“You know I love you,” Tommy blurts. Why wait?

“We’ll talk later, but I do love you,” Adam admits. “The same. For a long time.”

Tommy’s heart swells with inexpressible joy. Tears well up and spill as he smiles. Adam smiles back, reaching out and wiping a tear away with his thumb. Tommy hisses as Adam’s thumb touches his right cheekbone. It feels like he’s been stabbed in the face.

Adam frowns with concern, brushing Tommy’s hair aside and tilting his face to the light.

“What the hell?” he mumbles. He leans closer, examining the side of Tommy’s face.

“What?” Tommy asks.

Adam shakes his head slightly. “Your cheek is red and swelling, and there’s a small cut turning purple. It’s like you’ve been hit.”

Tommy freezes. “Hit?”

“Yeah,” Adam replies. “You must’ve hit yourself on something in your sleep when you were struggling.”

Tommy nods, feeling sick and terrified. “Yeah. That must be it.”


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy has a drunken accident and wakes up in another reality.  
> Existing between two realities, he will succumb to one, but which one? And is it real?
> 
> **none of this happened**

Tommy gulps down the remaining coffee in his cup and stares bleary eyed at the tv. He hasn’t been back to sleep since waking up in Adam’s bedroom, which was hours ago. He’s afraid to close his eyes, afraid he’ll wake up again in that place. It’s been a long night and he nearly dozed off a few times, but snapped himself awake, getting up and moving around, making coffee, munching on snacks, rummaging through Adam’s dvd collection, which has no horror movies, wtf. Anything to keep his focus and presence here, with Adam. Eventually, he’ll have to sleep and he has no idea what to do about that.

He moves around on the couch, sitting up straight, arching his back and stretching. It relieves the fatigue for mere seconds before it settles back in and reminds him exactly how tired he is. He sighs heavily.

“Did you ever go back to sleep?” Adam asks, walking into the living room.

Tommy’s gaze slides wearily to him. He looks alert and refreshed. Not at all as exhausted as Tommy feels.

Tommy shakes his head.

“You’ve got to sleep,” Adam gently scolds. “You can’t force yourself to stay awake, it’s not healthy.”

Tommy nods. Adam has a point. But Adam doesn’t understand.

Adam sits next to him on the couch, muting the tv with the remote.

“What’s going on?” he asks. “You’ve been acting kind of off since the fall. Afraid.”

How is Tommy supposed to explain what he’s been going through? Especially when he’s not sure it’s real or a delusion?

Tommy gives a half-hearted shrug. “Just weird dreams. They keep coming back, so I don’t wanna sleep.”

“They must be scary,” Adam comments. “I mean, you watch all those horror movies and they don’t bother you, but these dreams do.”

Tommy nods. It’s one thing to watch horror movies from the safety of your living room. It’s quite another to actually live one.

“You wanna tell me about them?” Adam asks. The care is evident in his voice. He wants to help; it’s in his nature.

Tommy winces and feels the abraded skin on his cheekbone twinge. How can Adam help him out of this when he doesn’t know up from down right now?

“You’ll think I’m crazy,” he whispers, looking down at his lap. And maybe he is? That’s what scares him the most.

“I’d never think that,” Adam says, placing a hand on Tommy’s arm. “I’m here if you need me. For anything.”

Tommy believes Adam. Mostly. But the doctor’s words echo in his mind - Adam had asked that he be put in a mental institution. So obviously Adam thought he was crazy.

It’s just a dream, Tommy reminds himself. A horrible, ridiculous nightmare.

“I just.... don’t wanna talk about it,” Tommy says, unconsciously touching the wound on his cheek. “Not yet.”

He looks up at Adam. Adam smiles, even though the disappointment is in his eyes, and he nods. He lets go of Tommy’s arm and stands.

“I’ve got to go out for a while,” he tells Tommy. “I’ll be back as soon as possible, and we’ll go out and do something. Sound good?”

“Yeah,” Tommy answers, smiling. Anything with Adam sounds good to him. He briefly wonders about Adam’s boyfriend, but dismisses it. Maybe his confession has changed things between those two. Maybe not. Nevertheless, he has Adam to himself for a while.

Adam leans down and kisses his uninjured cheek. Before Tommy can think about what he’s doing, he turns his head and catches Adam’s mouth with his own. Adam responds with immediate eagerness, pushing Tommy’s mouth open and delving in with his tongue as though he’s been waiting a lifetime for this kiss, a real kiss, not a stage antic. Tommy melts into it, letting Adam have control over it. Adam’s hand gently cups the side of Tommy’s face and the kiss intensifies. Tommy’s cock starts to tingle and he sighs into Adam’s mouth. He wants Adam on the couch with him, on top of him, enveloping him. It’s safe here. Warm, gentle, and safe.

His hands pull at Adam to lie down with him, but Adam breaks the kiss and straightens up.

“I hate to leave,” he grumbles with a smile. “Can we continue this later?”

Tommy’s heart jumps at the hopeful look in Adam’s eyes. He takes Adam’s hand and tells him yes, they most definitely can continue this later. Adam squeezes his hand and turns to go.

When the door shuts, Tommy can feel how alone he is. While kissing Adam, the world seemed right again, nothing looming below the surface, threatening to devour him and all he knows. With Adam gone, Tommy can feel the panic blossoming again in his mind, in his stomach. It makes him jumpy, as though the dreaded doctor is going to come charging at him out of nowhere, bringing his demented reality with him and sucking Tommy back in. Anxious, Tommy chews on his thumb.

He grabs the coffee cup and swallows the rest of its luke warm contents in one gulp. He grimaces at the coating left in his mouth from hours of swigging down this stuff. He decides to take a shower and brush his teeth while he’s waiting for Adam to come back. He doesn’t want to kiss Adam again with old coffee breath.

Tommy walks into the bathroom and turns on the shower to full blast hot. While it warms, he searches Adam’s bathroom drawers for an extra toothbrush. He finds one, pulls it out of its package, and squeezes a large glob of toothpaste on it. He feels like he hasn’t brushed his teeth in days. Considering he was in the hospital for several days, he supposes that’s not far from the truth.

Feeling a flow of relief at not being in a hospital of any kind, of being somewhere normal, and doing something sane like brushing his teeth, he shuts his eyes and takes a deep breath. When the steam from the shower touches his skin, its warmth helps him relax. His shoulder muscles unclench and he feels human again until he opens his eyes and looks straight at the bruise on his cheek. The tension creeps back up his neck. He hopes Adam’s right and he just hit himself somehow or knocked the corner of the bedside table, anything other than what he remembers.

Forcing his mind to more pleasant thoughts, Tommy keeps brushing his teeth. He envisions, for the thousandth time, what life with Adam will be like on the other side of the fence, the boyfriend side of the fence. Even though they haven’t discussed anything, Tommy’s already committed himself to Adam. He doesn’t even know if Adam will want to date him, but judging by that kiss, it’s looking pretty good.

The mirror steams up as Tommy thinks about Adam sweeping him off his feet and riding off into the sunset with him. He reaches out a hand and wipes the condensation off the mirror. Behind him looms the water blurry image of Dr Rhine, nose perched in the air, a disgusted look shooting down at Tommy. The shower is gone, replaced by the cold, dim room Tommy was locked in at the mental institution. Tommy sucks in a breath, inhaling toothpaste and choking. He flings the toothbrush out of his mouth and across the bathroom in reflex as he turns around. The brush lands across the room with a clatter, and toothpaste drips out his mouth and down his chin. Tommy whimpers.

There is no doctor. No patient room. Only the shower, steam pouring out from behind the curtain. He glances around the room. Nothing out of the ordinary or unfamiliar. Tommy gasps, his legs going weak with the fading adrenaline. He slumps back against the sink. It has to be a side effect of little to no sleep, crazy dreams, and the fall. It just has to be.

With hesitation, Tommy looks back in the mirror. Nothing there except the shower. He wipes the toothpaste off of his mouth and chin, still shaking. He moves to the shower and pauses as he reaches for the curtain. What if the doctor is hiding in there? His brain argues with him that the idea is ludicrous, but then again, after what he’s been seeing and dreaming, is it so far fetched? He holds his breath and yanks back the cloth curtain and the plastic liner, jumping at the noise and the idea that he might see something in there. Empty.

He rolls his eyes at himself, strips off his clothes, and steps under the spray of hot water. He tilts his face up to it, finding it easy to let go and relax under the heat. He turns and lets the water cascade over his neck and back. He tries to let the tension and the nightmares go down the drain with the water. He has to get a grip. Maybe he should confide in Adam about these dreams, visions, whatever they are. Adam’s understanding and supportive, he would listen and wouldn’t judge. And it might help Tommy if he talked about it. Maybe saying it all out loud would reduce its influence? But he doesn’t want Adam to think him weak or sick. And what if talking about it just makes it worse?

Tommy blanks out his brain and remains under the soothing hot water until it starts to cool, which is a considerable amount of time since Adam’s large house came equipped with a large water heater. He turns the water off and steps out of the shower, grabbing a towel and drying himself. He realizes he doesn’t know if he has any clean clothes to put on. Looking around Adam’s bedroom, he doesn’t see a tote bag or suitcase that might belong to him, so he opens one of Adam’s dresser drawers and fishes out a large gray t-shirt that reaches the tops of his thighs and slips it on. He hears the front door open and close. Tommy’s suddenly not sure what to do. Should he go downstairs? Should he stay up here? Should he sit or stand? So he stands there in the middle of the room, watching the doorway, waiting.

Adam stops just inside the room when he sees Tommy clad in only his t-shirt. He visibly swallows as he looks Tommy up and down. Feeling a little self-conscious, Tommy starts to fidget with his damp hair, trying to untangle and smooth it out. Adam crosses to him and takes Tommy’s hands, stilling them, kissing each one. He releases them and takes Tommy’s face between his own.

Tommy’s daydreamed of this moment during long bus rides on tour when he couldn’t sleep, what he would say and do, how he would act. Now that it’s here, nothing he planned out is adequate enough. How is he supposed to relay the depth of what he feels for this man standing in front of him, especially when he’s never felt anything for a man before? Anything he thinks to say gets stuck in his throat.

Adam takes the lead and kisses Tommy with a firmness that causes Tommy to lean fully into him. Tommy’s arms wrap around his neck as Adam’s go around his waist. Adam’s hands slide under the hem of the t-shirt, squeezing Tommy’s tiny ass. When Adam pulls his cheeks apart and cool air hits his crack, it startles Tommy. Oh yeah, ass play will be involved in this deal. And Tommy’s never done that before.

His reaction, however slight, doesn’t go unnoticed and Adam loosens his hold on Tommy and his mouth.

“It’s okay,” he assures Tommy. “Not this time. Not until you’re ready.”

Tommy relaxes with a grateful smile. He reaches up for Adam’s mouth again. Adam’s hand slides around and lightly strokes up Tommy’s balls and his dick, making it twitch. Tommy groans into Adam’s mouth when his hand closes around the shaft and tugs gently.

Adam lifts him by the waist, walking them to the bed, and laying him down. Tommy instinctively ruts his hardening cock against Adam, but the jeans are too rough. Without relinquishing the kiss, Adam lifts his hips off Tommy enough to unbutton and push his jeans down and off. The feel of Adam’s naked skin against his own sends hot pulses through Tommy that shoot straight to his cock. He needs more. He breaks the kiss to lift the t-shirt he just put on over his head and tosses it off the side of the bed, Adam doing the same.

Adam lays back over Tommy, and nips at his nose, his bottom lip, his chin. He props up on his forearm. Licking his hand, he grips their cocks together. He works his wrist, sliding his hand up and down, and Tommy stares, fascinated, feeling electrified. Sure, girls have jerked him off before, but this is not a feminine hand. It’s not the same.

Adam twists his wrist just so, making Tommy’s head fall back and his mouth fall open in a drawn out moan. Adam’s hand is strong and greedy on him. Tommy can’t take his eyes off of Adam, who’s face is flushed, his mouth open slightly. His gaze on Tommy is intense. Gratifying pressure builds into a ball of heat in the middle of Tommy’s groin and radiates outward. He looks back down at Adam’s hand when he feels it speed up and squeeze at the top of each stroke. Tommy’s hips rock slightly into each stroke; he can’t help it. It just heightens the sensations he’s feeling.

Adam comes first and Tommy watches. The feel of Adam’s cock throbbing on top of his, the sight of his come spurting and landing on his stomach makes Tommy pant and gasp loudly. He digs his fingers into Adam’s arms. Adam works him a little faster, his come making the motion slicker and easier. Tommy’s head drops back again, eyes closed, and he bites his bottom lip. His release is almost there, almost, just one more twist... When his bottom lips slips out from between his teeth, Adam bites it, and Tommy shouts his name into Adam’s mouth as he comes. His entire body throbs against Adam and bucks upward, trying to stay as close to Adam as possible. He doesn’t want to ever come down from this.

 

Tommy lies face to face with Adam on the bed, the room lit by the moonlight coming in through the window. He stares at Adam, who has long since fallen asleep. Tommy watches the way Adam breathes, the small twitches and movements in his face as he dreams, and the snuffles he makes when taking a particularly deep breath.

Tommy’s exhausted, but he’s managed to keep himself awake by replaying their afternoon in his mind. After the impromptu hand job, Adam had taken Tommy out. They’d gone to eat, of course, and then to the beach and walked along the surf barefoot, hand in hand. Adam confessed he loves Tommy, too, and for a long time, but never thought any of this was possible, so he didn’t try to pursue anything. But now that it’s a possibility, he had met with the guy he’d been seeing earlier that morning and broke it off. This news gave Tommy a thrill, yet scared the hell out of him. Adam’s sights were fully set on him now. What if this didn’t work? Tommy admitted he had no idea what to do with this relationship, it was new territory, but he was Adam’s all the way if Adam wanted him.

And Adam wanted him. He’d given Tommy the blow job to end all blow jobs once they’d gotten back to the house. With verbal and hands on guidance from Adam, which Tommy found hotter than hell, he returned the favor. Hearing Adam shout his name and feeling the pull of his fingers in his hair and swallowing his come, damn near had Tommy coming again.

Tommy smiles to himself when Adam snorts in his sleep. He can still taste Adam. He stares at the freckled, makeup free face, and he feels himself falling all over again. He reaches out and touches Adam’s lips, traces them.

The scene before him blurs slightly, jerking to the right and settling back again. Tommy’s eyes widen and he stops breathing. He hears something akin to static on a radio, like a station trying to come in on a tower that’s too far away. Voices are in the distance overwhelmed by white noise. Tommy is still focused on Adam’s face, scared to look away. Apprehension creeps up his spine. The voices become a little louder, a little closer.

“Adam,” he whispers. “Wake up. I need you to wake up and make this go away.”

Voices in the hall. A thud as something heavy hits the floor. The static grows louder. The room blurs and shifts and threatens to melt into the world Tommy fears. But he stayed awake! This isn’t supposed to happen, he’s still awake!

Tommy’s hand is still touching Adam’s face. Adam is fading. Tommy leans in, pressing his lips to Adam’s.

“I love you,” he whispers. “Please find me.”

“Tommy,” a female voice says. “What are you doing on the floor? Are you hurt or sick? Do I need to call Dr Rhine?”

Tommy numbly opens his eyes, staring at a white concrete wall. Adam’s gone.


	5. chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy has a drunken accident and wakes up in another reality.  
> Existing between two realities, he will succumb to one, but which one? And is it real?

“Tommy,” the woman’s voice is lower this time. “Tommy, you’ve got to stand up and focus. You don’t want Dr Rhine seeing you like this.”

Heavy hearted, Tommy turns away from the wall into which Adam had faded and looks up. The nurse’s dark toned face is older and kind. It’s furrowed into concern as she leans down to him.

“Tommy, you hear me?” she asks. “You’ve got to get out of the floor, come on.”

Tommy can only nod. She takes his arm and helps him stand.

“Now,” she says, straightening his clothes. “There. We can’t have him or his “orderlies” find you in the floor, mooning at the wall. No telling where they’ll drag you off to or have done.”

She grips Tommy’s chin and turns his head to look at her. Tears fall onto his cheeks. God, he doesn’t want to be here. Even if it is a dream.

“You were thinking about him again, weren’t you?”she asks with sympathy. “Oh honey, you’ve got to let that man go. For your own good. You hear me, Tommy?”

Anger swells in him. Let Adam go? How can he just let Adam go? She doesn’t know him or Adam! What right does she have to just flippantly say, Let him go? 

She can read what he’s thinking. “I know that’s easier said than done, and who am I to tell you such a thing. But it’s got to happen, Tommy. And soon. It’s killing you.”

Tommy has no clue who this woman is, but he feels a mothering quality from her. She’s not like the others he’s encountered here. She wipes the tears from his cheeks. Like his mother would.

“I don’t wanna be here,” he whispers.

She sighs, her expression one of sympathy. “I know you don’t, child. But you did some things that you need to make up for and heal from. And you can do it. It takes time and effort and patience. The more progress you make, the quicker you’ll get to leave here and go on about your life.”

Tommy’s breath hitches. He shouldn’t trust anyone in this bizarre place, but he instinctively feels this woman actually cares about him.

“I wanna talk to Adam.” He says it so low and hardly forming the words with his mouth that he’s not entirely sure he said them at all. He’s petrified of what she’ll say. Or do.

She frowns, but it’s the frown of mother who wants to give her child what he wants, but has to deny it. “That’s not a good idea,” she tells him.

“Do you know about him?” he asks. He’s genuinely curious. Maybe he can talk her into helping him.

“I only know what’s in your file,” she says. “You loved him, he didn’t feel that way, you drove your car off a bridge with both of you in it.”

“But he asked that I be put here instead of jail,” Tommy starts to reason, his tears drying. “If he did that, then he must care about me. Right?”

“Tommy,” she warns. “I know where you’re headed with this train of thought and you better just leave it alone. He was your friend, of course he didn’t want to see you in prison. This does not mean that he wants to talk to you now.”

“But,” he begins.

“No, sir,” she firmly cuts him off. “It’s not going to help you. Listen, you’ve been thinking about him, crying again, you’re excited right now. You need to focus. Focus on yourself, staying calm, healing yourself so you can leave this place.”

Tommy’s heart sinks. His face falls and he feels lost, completely disconnected from anything outside the walls holding him hostage.

The nurse softens. “Why don’t you go into the recreation area, relax a little. You’ll see that talking to Adam isn’t such a good idea after all.”

“What if it is?” he questions. “What if that would help me accept this reality? He doesn’t even seem real anymore. None of this does.”

She huffs. “Probably a side effect of the drugs Dr Rhine orders you be given.”

She turns him toward a large room with glass walls looking toward the nurses’ station. It’s filled with people wearing the same drab attire he has on. Other patients, like him.

“Take some time to yourself. Get your mind off him,” she says, her hand in the middle of his back. She gently pushes him forward.

He walks into the room. Its occupants are doing various activities: watching cartoons, playing cards, drawing with crayons, reading, staring at the floor, mindlessly tearing paper into strips, humming, snapping their fingers. He looks around, completely unsure of himself and those in this room. He spies a cushioned bench by a barred window and makes a bee-line for it. He looks eagerly out of the window. The grounds aren’t large from what he can see of them and they’re surrounded by a tall, metal fence with razor wire at the top, enclosing the residents more like prisoners than patients. But the grass is lush and green, the bushes full, the sky is so blue. Tommy stares at it with wonder, like he’s never seen any of it before. It’s all so beautiful, so alive. He can almost smell the sunshine, feel the warmth from it. He wishes he could go outside, just for five minutes.

He feels movement beside him and he jerks away from the scenery outside the window, around to face a fellow patient now seated beside him. His curly hair is sticking out in several directions, like his finger got up close and personal with a light socket. His eyes are wide with an unhinged glint in them. This guy looks like he belongs here. He smiles at Tommy. It’s a disturbing sight.

“Are you the guy who ran off the bridge?” he asks.

“Uh...,” Tommy’s not sure what to say, nor does he want to talk about anything with this guy, let alone why he’s here. “I guess.”

The guy nods emphatically. “Yeah, I hear things. About people,” he says. “The floors talk, ya know.”

Tommy stares. “I think you mean the walls talk.”

He looks at Tommy like Tommy just grew another head.

“No,” he replies. “The walls don’t talk. The floors do. Walls can’t talk, that’d be stupid. Who would listen?”

Tommy just nods in agreement. Whatever, he doesn’t want to upset this guy. In fact, he doesn’t want to interact with him at all, but he’s not sure if he should just get up and leave. He doesn’t know what would set off people in here. He suddenly feels like he’s in a room full of sharks and he’s bait.

“So that why you’re here?” the guy asks, leaning in. Tommy automatically leans away, looking at the floor. “You tried to off yourself and your boyfriend?”

“I guess,” Tommy mutters. Fuck, he wants this guy to go away.

The guy chuckles. “Me too. I mean, I didn’t run off a bridge, I tried to put her head in the fire place. Stupid bitch got pissed. Kept kicking me, which hurt, by the way.”

Tommy stares at his benchmate in veiled horror. He’s been put into a facility with guys who are truly off their rockers. He’s been classified as someone as insane and dangerous as this guy. Tommy suddenly feels hopeless. And anxious. He has to live with people like this, in a world that sees him as one of these patients, and he knows he’s nothing like them. 

Grinning, the guy looks back at Tommy. “Oh don’t worry, I’m not dangerous, really. Not like some of these other freaks in here. I’m Jim.”

“Tommy,” he answers. He does not want to talk, but he’s afraid of not replying at all.

A howl erupts in the room. Tommy looks around, wide eyed and startled. The man in the corner tearing paper into strips and dropping them to floor was wailing at the top of his lungs in the middle of his shredded pile. His face is tilted up to the ceiling, mouth open in a shriek of torment, his hands flap wildly. Tommy notices that he’s missing several fingers on his left hand. Orderlies in white rush in to subdue him and calm the room as other patients begin to mimic him. Others look confused. Some don’t notice any of it at all.

“That’s Ralph,” Jim says. “The devil talks to him.”

Tommy looks at Jim. “What?”

“The devil talks to him,” Jim states again. “He’s what you call one of those kleptomaniacs. People who steal all the time, ya know. He stole a lotta shit on the outside ‘cause the devil told him to, but felt guilty as hell about it. So he chopped off some of his own fingers to make himself stop. He’s having a hard time stealing shit in here and the devil’s real mad about it.”

Jim sounds so frank that Tommy can’t even form a reply. Thankfully, he doesn’t have to as the nurse he’s seemingly befriended approaches and tells Jim that it’s time for his psychotherapy session with his doctor.

“Time to get the gray matter picked,” he tells Tommy. “See ya around.”

As Jim leaves, Tommy reaches for the nurse. He wishes he could remember her name.

“Feeling better?” she asks.

“Please,” he whispers. “I just want to hear his voice, that’s all.”

“Tommy,” she begins.

“Just once,” he pleads. “Just one time. One call, that’s it, I promise.”

She stares down at him. He’s about to win; he can tell by the look on her face, so he mouths the word please one more time. She rolls her eyes and sighs heavily.

“You get caught Tommy, it’ll be both our asses, you understand me?” she says harshly.

He nods. “I won’t get caught, I swear.”

She huffs and mutters something under her breath that he can’t understand. “Come on,” she says, resigned.

He follows her to an empty office.

“Mrs Preston is at lunch,” she says quietly, looking around the empty hallway. “Keep the door closed. Don’t you dare come out on your own. You’ve got five minutes and I’ll be back to get you. Understand?”

Tommy nods emphatically, his heart thudding. He’s going to talk to Adam. Finally! Shit, what’s he gonna say?

The nurse shoves him in the room, reiterates five minutes, and shuts the door. Tommy dives for the phone. His hands shake so badly he nearly drops it as he dials Adam’s cell number. His fingers slip on the keys, dialing a wrong number, so he starts over. He prays it’s the same in this reality as in the other one. It is. And Adam answers after the second ring.

“Hello?”

Tommy chokes when he hears his voice. He has no clue what to say now. His heart is beating so hard he can feel it in his toes and he doesn’t know if he can even speak.

“Hello?” Adam says again.

Speak, Tommy’s brain tells him. Or he’s going to hang up. “Adam,” Tommy’s voice is trembling.

Silence.

“Adam, it’s me,” Tommy says.

“What do you want?” Adam sounds surprised and cautious.

That’s a good question. What exactly does Tommy want?

“I...,” he begins. “They’re telling me things... awful things... I don’t know what to believe. Adam, why am I here?”

Adam sighs, weariness in his voice. “I don’t have time for this, Tommy.”

“Adam please,” Tommy says desperately.

“How did you get to a phone?” Adam asks. “I didn’t think you were allowed to call.”

“I need to see you,” Tommy says. “Please. I need you.”

Silence. Then, “No.”


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy has a drunken accident and wakes up in another reality.  
> Existing between two realities, he will succumb to one, but which one? And is it real?
> 
> *by the way, none of this is real

No.

That one word hits Tommy like a sledgehammer in the stomach. Adam said no? Did he understand the question? What the fuck?

Tommy is so stunned he can’t reply. His brain is spinning. His legs are trembling. He didn’t know what to expect calling Adam, but clearly he hadn’t expected “no.”

“Tommy?” Adam’s disembodied voice calls.

He answers in a breathless voice, his mouth dry and throat closing. “You... won’t see me? Why?”

“Tommy, you’re not the only one who has to move on,” Adam tells him. There’s a hitch in his breath. Tommy’s mind holds onto that hitch as the only lifeline to hope.

“But, we’re friends,” he tells Adam. “Don’t you care?”

“Of course I care,” Adam doesn’t even hesitate. “But things got really messed up, and that night.... seeing me isn’t going to help you.”

“How do you know?” Tommy snaps. He’s fed up with people telling him what he doesn’t need. “How do you fucking know what’s good for me? You’re not trapped in this fucked up hospital, if that’s what it even is. You’re not being fed drugs that do weird shit to your mind. You’re not the one who’s trying to figure out how he got here, if he’ll ever get out, if what they’re saying is true, and you can’t swim through any of their fucking babble because you’re confused and tired and dealing with shock treatments and drugs and fucking whatever else they throw at you! You are fine and going on about your life, not living in a nightmare. What am I supposed to do, Adam? I need your help and you won’t....”

Tommy stops, realizing his voice has risen to a yell. Should he really be yelling at Adam? It’s not really the way to convince him to come and visit.

Adam is silent. Tommy’s suddenly afraid he’s hung up.

“Shock treatments?” he asks. “They’re shocking you?”

“Please, Adam.” Tommy’s voice is hoarse and he’s weak with relief that Adam hasn’t hung up on him. In fact, he sounds concerned. Tommy’s prepared to beg until Adam gives in.

The door opens and the nurse walks in. She motions for him to hang up. He’s not ready. He just needs a few more minutes, a few more seconds. He has to make Adam understand.

“You’re not the only one who hurts, Tommy,” Adam says quietly.

The line disconnects. Tommy puts the phone down. Adam had hung up first, without saying goodbye, but Tommy thinks he’s gotten through to him. He holds onto that thought.

“You okay?” the nurse asks.

He gives her a slight nod.

“Come on, child,” she says. “It’s time for your session with Dr Rhine.”

 

Tommy slumps down onto the cot in his room. The first half of his session with Dr Rhine was less than productive, in his opinion. He placated the doctor by agreeing to everything the man implied: no he wasn’t a guitarist, yes he tried to hurt himself and Adam, yes he deserved to be here, yes this was reality, no he wasn’t with Adam, blah blah blah. Tommy hated doing this, but he wants out of this wretched place as fast as possible.

“Am I getting better?” Tommy had asked.

He had to start convincing the doctor that he’s got all his marbles present and accounted for and he can leave any time now, but he needed to know what the doctor thought of his progress. He has to play this carefully, and not appear belligerent or uncooperative.

“Hard to say,” Dr Rhine replied. “Sometimes I think you are, and other times I know you’re not.”

Tommy didn’t know how to respond to that, so he kept quiet, twisting his hands in his lap, trying to formulate how to behave, react, what to say. This was the one person keeping him from the outside.

The doctor was preoccupied, sorting through papers on his desk, and paying no attention to Tommy. He suddenly looked up.

“How would you feel about trying hydrotherapy treatment?” he asked.

Tommy was surprised. Stunned even. He’s being asked what he’d like to do? He’s no idea what hydrotherapy is, but it sounded okay. Warm water, perhaps scented, relaxation, maybe a little jet action like a hot tub... sure he could do hydrotherapy.

Trying not to come off eager, Tommy shrugged. “Sure. I mean, whatever works.”

Dr Rhine smiled. Even in good humor it looked menacing, and Tommy suddenly felt uneasy.

Tommy lays down and replays his phone call with Adam for the hundredth time. While he isn’t thrilled about Adam’s reaction to his call or his request, he’s glad that he’s confirmed there is an Adam in this reality. While his heart aches still with grief, it now has a real intention - to leave this place. He’ll say whatever he has to, agree to whatever he has to in order to get the fuck out of here. Then he’ll be able to work on his relationship with Adam, which he really can’t do in here. He’s suddenly afraid of the fact that he’s accepting this place as real, but reasons it away that if he’s stuck here for any length of time, he can jolly well make the best of it somehow. He has a goal now and that makes him feel a little better about things. Maybe if he gets out of here in this reality, then his mind will let go of this fucked up dream in real life. Then he and Adam can get on with their new-found relationship and he can forget all about this shit here.

His mind goes to the “other” reality. He feels a stab of panic that it may not be real, that this one may be the real world. He closes his eyes and hears Adam’s voice, sees his luminous smile and blue eyes. He can see himself sitting next to Adam, looking up to Adam’s face, hearing his musical laugh. He hears himself say, I love you. He hears an engine gunning, Adam shrieking “Stop,” the crunch and screech of metal as it folds in on itself.....

Tommy jolts, his eyes opening wide in shock. His heart is pounding.

That was a dream, he tells himself. Not a memory, a dream, influenced by that doctor’s psycho-babble, by this place. It’s not real.

He takes a deep breath to calm himself, releasing it slowly.

So why am I so scared of it? he wonders.

 

Tommy’s led to the hydrotherapy room by one of Rhine’s orderlies. It’s a medium size room with gray tile walls and flooring, stainless steel cabinets and sinks. In the middle of the room sits an old fashion claw foot, white porcelain bathtub.

No jets in that, I guess, Tommy thinks. He’s a little disappointed. Okay, he’s a lot disappointed. He’d worked himself up for a jacuzzi swim. He walks closer to it and sees that the tub is already full of water.

“Clothes off,” the orderly tells him.

Tommy pauses, clearly not wanting to be naked in front of this oaf.

The oaf smirks at his discomfort. “I don’t swing that way, so don’t flatter yourself.”

It has nothing to do with whether or not the oaf “swings that way” and everything to do with vulnerability.

Stupid fuck, Tommy thinks.

Dr Rhine walks in, looking down at a chart. Tommy is sort of grateful he doesn’t have to be naked and alone with the orderly, even if the other person is the doctor.

“You’ll need to remove your clothing, of course,” Dr Rhine tells him.

“I already told him that,” the orderly pipes up with authority, but closes his mouth quickly, looking away when Dr Rhine shoots him a glare that suggests he remember his place.

Tommy turns away from both of them and starts removing his clothes, folding them. There’s not a chair or table next to the tub, so he places them on the floor near the tub where they’ll be within quick reach once he steps out of the water. The room is a bit chilly and he hugs himself against it. It’s easy to feel vulnerable in a place like this, but naked, Tommy feels like a big target.

The doctor walks up behind him and ushers him to the tub, indicating he should get in. Tommy lifts a foot and puts it over the edge, into the water, and jerks it back. The water is cold. Ice cold.

“It’s cold,” he states.

“Of course it is,” Dr Rhine replies. “Now, in please.”

Tommy tries to back away, but the doctor moves behind him, stopping him.

“I’m not getting in there,” Tommy tells him.

“Did you not agree to the hydrotherapy treatment?” Dr Rhine barks the question at him.

“I didn’t know you meant cold water!” Tommy retorts.

Who the fuck wants to sit in cold water? Is the doctor brain dead? Tommy says as much to him.

“Mr Ratliff, I am simply going by your own agreement that we try this treatment,” the doctor’s voice is as cold as the water. “You cannot find fault with it when you haven’t tried it. The cold will liven your senses, your memory, which is what you need in order to face the tragedy you caused.”

Tragedy. That word takes Tommy’s breath away. Adam had been hurt and it’d been his fault.

“Cooperate, Mr Ratliff,” Dr Rhine hones in on Tommy’s sudden inner distress. “Or we will find other methods of treatment.”

Tommy stares at him. If he refuses, he’ll never be able to make his case that he’s getting better and can be released. If he refuses, treatments more horrible than a cold bath would be on his horizon. Treatments like shock therapy.

Tommy sighs and gives in. He steps in gingerly, one foot, then the other. Chill bumps crawl up his body. He doesn’t know if he should sit quickly and get it over with, or slowly and ease into it. Neither sound appealing.

Get it the fuck over with, he tells himself.

Tommy drops his butt all the way to the bottom of the tub. The cold shocks him into letting out a yelp. He sits stiffly, wondering just how long he has to stay in this.

“Arms in the tub,” the doctor says. “You need to be as submerged as possible.”

Tommy reluctantly lets go of his death grip on the side of the tub, slipping them into the cold water.

The oaf steps into view carrying a large blue bucket. He dumps its contents into the tub with Tommy.

“What the fuck are you doing?” Tommy shrieks as ice cubes fall into the water around him.

The orderly and Dr Rhine pull a heavy canvas over the top of the tub, sliding it back to Tommy’s neck. They strap it down with the large buckles attached, trapping Tommy in the ice water as he flails about, trying to catch his breath, his body temperature plummeting.

“Let me out,” he chokes, his teeth chattering so badly that he bites his tongue.

“Stop whining,” Dr Rhine orders. “This is necessary to open up your memory.”

“You’re going to kill me,” Tommy says.

“You’re not going to die,” Dr Rhine replies. “You won’t be in there long enough for severe hypothermia to set it. You can survive in there for up to three hours at this water temperature. You’ll be too exhausted after one hour to notice anything around you, which will leave your mind open to recovering hidden memories.”

Tommy whimpers. This means hypothermia is on the doctor’s agenda.

The doctor turns on his heel and walks out, closing the door. The orderly pulls in a chair and sits it next to the door. He plops down in it and pulls out a worn paperback novel. Briefly, Tommy’s surprised the clod can even read.

Tommy’s breathing becomes quick and shallow from the shock as the cold works its way into his muscles and down to his bones. Tommy can’t stand the cold to begin with and this... this is torture for him. He clenches his eyes and jaw shut, and tries to concentrate on stopping his shaking. He thinks about fires, fuzzy sweaters, the sun, hell even sitting on the sun... Adam appears behind his eyes. Tommy thinks about all the hugs Adam freely gives, his embrace; Adam tucking Tommy’s body under his arm, Tommy’s head under his chin, and Tommy fit so perfectly; nights on the couch watching movies with Tommy’s feet wedged under Adam’s thighs to keep them warm; nights out at bars when Adam would lay a possessive arm around Tommy if anybody questionable tried to hit on him; they’d been best friends....

  
_I love you_

  
_Don’t, Tommy_

  
_The engine revs_

  
_The feeling of acceleration_

 

_Adam’s yell, Stop!_

  
_Metal crunching_

  
_Water splashing, gurgling_

  
_Adam’s tears_

 

_Tommy, why?_

  
_I love you...._

 

Tommy is sitting deadpan in the ice water when Dr Rhine returns. He’s been in the tub for almost two hours. His body is frozen and numb. Bits and pieces of memories play sluggishly in his mind over and over on a crazy loop. He’d wanted Adam’s love in a way Adam couldn’t give, so he’d hurt them both. Tears had fallen on Adam’s cheeks as the car filled with water. Water that had been just as cold as the water in which he was now sitting. Adam had been scared. He didn’t understand why Tommy had done this. No wonder he refused to visit Tommy.

“You may get out now,” the doctor tells him. “Marie will assist you and take you back to your room,” he says. “We’ll talk later.”

The nurse Tommy befriended appears next to him, undoing the buckles on the canvas. It’s nice to have a name to go with her; Marie. He watches her numbly as she unfolds the canvas and drops it to the floor. She turns back to Tommy with concern on her face and slides an arm behind his back. He’s stiff. His muscles can’t quite figure out what to do and his joints ache. He finally stands with her help and steps out of the tub. He stands there feeling like a zombie, and pretty much looking like one, as she pats him dry with a towel. She takes great care not to rub his skin. She drapes a heavy blanket over him and slips socks onto his feet.

“Come on, child,” she says affectionately.

Tommy moves clumsily down the hall, but Marie is patient and encouraging.

“Take your time,” she says, supporting his tiny and cold frame. “The hypothermia is moderate, but you need to move, get your blood pressure back up.”

When they reach his room, she helps him lie down on the cot and covers him with another heavy blanket. The air inside the blankets is chilled from the cold rolling out of his body as his temperature struggles to regulate itself. Marie places heat packs underneath the top blanket.

“Sleep, Tommy,” she says, tucking the blankets around him and a smaller blanket around his head and neck.

He closes his eyes. He doesn’t remember ever feeling such weariness before. Or sorrow.

 

“Tommy.”

He doesn’t want to wake up. He feels warmer than when he went to sleep, which makes him burrow deeper into the blankets.

“Tommy, wake up.”

He wants the voice to go away so he can go back to his dreamless sleep.

“Come on.”

A gentle hand shakes him, and he opens his eyes. His vision is still blurry from exhaustion. Marie is standing over him. He’s glad to see her, but he can’t seem to express it.

“You’ve been asleep for two days,” she tells him. “We need to get you up and dressed.”

She moves about the room, gathering clothes for him to put on.

“You have a visitor,” she says.

He looks at her, wondering who would be visiting him?

She stops moving and looks at him kindly.

“It’s Adam.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note about hydrotherapy: This was a practice in early 20th century. Patients were submerged in either warm or cold water for various lengths of time (sometimes hours), depending on the results the doctors were trying to achieve. Patients were also wrapped in towels soaked in ice water. Sometimes, and isn't this a fun one, strapped to a wall and blasted with water from a hose (like a fire hose).  
> As for Tommy's therapy, I don't know if ice was put in the water with the patients in real therapy, but I used this anyway to make it a little harder on Tommy. I do not know if in real life any level of hypothermia was intended by doctors doing cold water hydrotherapy, and I'm not suggesting that it was. Tommy's moderate hypothermia is for story purposes only.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy has a drunken accident and wakes up in another reality.  
> Existing between two realities, he will succumb to one, but which one? And is it real?
> 
> *nothing I write is real

Tommy fidgets with his clothes and hair as he walks down the hall. He’s nervous as hell. Adam’s at the other end of the hall. He’d wanted Adam to come and see him so badly, and now that he has, Tommy is afraid to see him. He has no idea what to say. What would Adam say to him? That question has him scared as hell. He doesn’t want anymore rejection. He feels lost enough, and if Adam walks away.... Tommy’s not sure if making the effort to get out here would even be worth it after that.

Marie’s hand is on the middle of his back, more for moral support than guidance as she walks beside him. He’s grateful for her presence; it’s comforting. The lounge room comes into view, and Tommy’s heart ricochets wildly off his breastbone. It feels like it’s beating in his throat. He clenches his fists and marches through the door, anxious yet excited to see Adam.

Adam is sitting at one of the tables in the room. Tommy stops short when his eyes land on him. He’s not the glitz and glam rockstar Tommy knows from the “other” reality, but looks rather subdued and guarded. He looks up at Tommy, betraying no excitement or happiness, no emotion at seeing him, which terrifies Tommy. Marie nudges him, and Tommy shuffles forward to the table.

“You came?” Tommy doesn’t mean for it to be a question.

“Yeah,” Adam answers. A small smile plays on his lips. “How could I not after that phone call?”

Tommy sits and folds his hands on top of the table. Even guarded and dressed down with no makeup or fluffed hair, Adam is still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen, and his heart aches. He wants to touch him, hug him, fold himself into Adam and feel safe, like he used to do. He can’t do these things on a whim now. Not without Adam’s consent. The wedge between them is huge and obvious. And uncomfortable.

“Well,” Adam starts. “I’d ask how you’ve been, but...um..”

Tommy just nods and looks away. Uncomfortable silence falls between them. Both have a hundred things to say, and neither knows how to start or even if they should.

Tommy decides to start with something they have in common. Music.

“You’re still singing?” he asks.

That shine, that sparkle comes into Adam’s eyes. “Oh yeah. Still just nightclubs on the weekends, but you know...”

“You’re gonna make it,” Tommy says confidently. “I know you are.”

Adam smiles, and for the briefest moment it’s like they’re best friends again, like nothing bad happened between them. But the awkwardness settles down over them once more, and they fall silent, unsure of themselves.

“Adam...,” Tommy begins. He doesn’t want to ask, then again, he has to ask. He has to know what Adam thinks, what Adam remembers. “What happened?” His voice is so quiet that he thinks Adam probably didn’t hear him, and he dreads repeating the question.

Adam’s expression is thoughtful, yet sad, almost broken. This isn’t pleasant for him either. Tommy hates himself for doing this to Adam, all of it, for putting him through what he did, and asking him to dredge it up now. He’s responsible for the look on Adam’s face, and that kills him inside.

“Well, you...,” Adam fumbles for words, something he never does. He’s the most well spoken and articulate person Tommy knows.

“I know I did something awful,” Tommy admits. Best to just get it out and over. “I really don’t remember it. And what I do remember, I don’t know if it’s fueled by what I’ve been told or if it’s real, but there’s this...”

Tommy almost tells Adam about the “other reality” but stops. He wants so badly to confide in him, for Adam to be his friend again, but Adam already thinks he’s crazy. Adam’s looking at him, waiting for him to finish his sentence. When Tommy doesn’t, Adam speaks.

“You just got off track, Tommy. It happens. Things happen. The important thing is you’re okay, we’re both okay, and you get better.”

It’s a total blow off. He’s avoiding discussing any of it, and Tommy can tell.

“I am not okay,” Tommy tells him. “I don’t remember anything. I’m confused, I don’t like it here.... I miss my best friend. We are not okay, and you know it.”

Adam looks down at the table. “I miss my best friend, too. But I don’t know what to do, or how this is going to work out. Things are different now, no matter how much we don’t like it. They’re different, and I don’t know if we can fix it.”

There’s the honesty. Tommy knows he’s right. And he wants to cry. Tears well up in his eyes.

“What happened?” he quietly asks again. “What happened that you didn’t want me? Why?”

Adam gives an agitated sigh. “Nothing made me not want... it’s not as cut and dry as that, Tommy. I was seeing someone, you knew that, and you kept pushing. I wasn’t going to just dump my boyfriend because you decided you wanted me when you finally couldn’t have me. I don’t work like that. You’re not even gay, not that you’ve ever indicated anyway. And suddenly you’re in love with me?”

Tommy stays silent. He wants Adam to keep talking. He’s finally getting real answers, not psycho-babble and bizarre treatments.

“You just wouldn’t let it go,” Adam continues. “You’d say you were fine with it, and you’d act fine, like everything was normal, but then... You kept pushing, Tommy. It went on for several months. I knew you were confused, and I didn’t want to hurt you. God knows, I didn’t want to hurt you or turn you away, but I didn’t know what else to do.”

“Turn me away?” Tommy asks.

“That night, we went out, had a few drinks, and in the car, you told me again how you wanted to be with me. Just us, together, always. I couldn’t do it anymore. I couldn’t keep hearing it. I couldn’t keep turning you down. So I told you we needed to separate for a while, even as friends. It hurt me to do it, I hope you believe that. But I didn’t see any other way to get you to let go of the idea of romance. I just wanted my friend. And you told me you loved me. Then drove the car off the bridge.”

_I love you..._

“We crashed through the guard rail and went down. The drop seemed to take forever, but we were in the water before I could comprehend what was happening. You were so blank, Tommy. Your face was so blank. Like you weren’t even there. And the water was rushing in, it made the most awful sound, and it was cold and dark. I asked you why, but all you said was, I love you. Like that was the only explanation in the world. You were resolved to die, and I couldn’t believe you wanted me to die, too. You just sat there. No expression. Nothing.”

 _Tommy, why?_  
_I love you...._

Adam has tears in his eyes and his voice is cracking with emotion. Reliving this is hard on him. Tommy’s tears are falling while Adam is talking and he feels so ashamed. That he could do this to his best friend... how did he have this capability inside himself?

“You should’ve left me down there,” he says.

Adam’s gaze snaps to him. “No, I shouldn’t have. I wasn’t going to let you die. And I didn’t want you in jail. You needed help, not jail with real criminals. So it’s my fault you’re in here.”

“It’s never your fault,” Tommy says, wiping his face with his hands. “You didn’t do this, I did. And I’m so sorry, Adam. That’s not enough, but I don’t know what else to say. I’m so sorry.”

Truth is, Tommy is mortified. He’d just about sell his soul right now for the ground to open up and swallow him. How could he do that to anyone, but especially to Adam?

“Tommy, it’s not that...” Adam pauses. “I didn’t want to mess up our friendship. Can you understand that? I didn’t want to take the chance that things wouldn’t work out if we pursued something more.”

“But we are messed up,” Tommy says. “Our friendship is damaged, maybe beyond repair anyway, because of me.”

Adam doesn’t respond, and Tommy’s heart clenches. He feels right then that they are beyond repair. He’s ruined everything.

As fresh tears fall, Tommy gets up. He can’t look at Adam.

“You don’t have to say anything else. I’m truly sorry, Adam. I hope you believe me. I won’t ask anything more of you. I’m sorry.”

He’s turning to leave when he hears Adam say, “Stay, Tommy.”

 _Stay..._  
_All along it was a fever..._

He stops, but he can’t make himself turn around. If he does, he knows he’ll run to Adam, collapse at his feet and beg for forgiveness.

“Why?” he asks.

Adam sighs. “I guess walking away won’t help either of us.”

_I want you to stay...._

Tommy hears Adam speak, sitting at the table, but he also hears Adam singing, farther off, like a distant memory.

 _I threw my hands in the air I said show me something...._  
_He said, if you dare come a little closer...._

He turns to look at Adam. He’s not really singing, is he? Adam is still sitting at the table, looking expectantly at Tommy. He sees the table shift, but attributes it to his watery eyes.

“Tommy?” Adam’s voice sounds like it’s in a tunnel.

 _Round and around and around we go...._  
_Oh tell me now tell me now tell me now you know...._

That angelic voice lilts to his ears from somewhere far away. It’s so beautiful, so peaceful, and Tommy wants to follow it.

“Are you okay?” Adam asks, getting up. His face is blurry.

The room is jerking, again like a tv station trying to find a signal, and there’s a dull thumping sound in his ears. The color bleeds out of the room, leaving everything white and gray. He can still hear Adam singing, far away, but it’s getting closer, stronger. He suddenly feels drained. His eyes close and he stumbles. Adam’s voice is right over him now. It’s hypnotic; Adam has that affect on people. Tommy feels he can reach out and touch it, it’s so close.

“Something in the way you move, makes me feel like I can’t live without you. It takes me all the way, I want you to stay. I want you to stay...”

God, the lyrics with his voice are stunning, and Tommy falls in love again and again with every note Adam utters. He can just see in his mind’s eye each facial expression, each movement of Adam’s hands, the emotion in his eyes, the tilt of his head as he sings. Mesmerizing.

Something lifts from Tommy’s eyes. Something damp, leaving his skin cool with the rush of air. He opens them. Adam is leaning over him, humming now, and holding a cloth. He beams at Tommy.

“What happened?” he groggily asks.

Adam drops the cloth on the bedside table and reaches for another, folding it and placing it on Tommy’s forehead. He doesn’t realize how hot his face feels until the cloth damp with cold water is placed on him.

“Another one of those headaches,” he tells Tommy. “I know the doctor said it’s not unusual for you to have severe headaches after that fall, but they worry me.”

“Headaches,” Tommy states. He has no clue what Adam’s talking about, but it’s clear he’s in the “other” reality. The one he’s praying is real.

“Yeah,” Adam says, fiddling with the cloth on Tommy’s head, making sure it’s placed just so, and pressing down on it. “Common enough for people who’ve sustained head injuries. You were in the kitchen earlier, and you said you felt nauseated again and your vision was getting blurry. Then you just collapsed. Scared the hell out of me. I put you in bed, and you’ve been asleep for a couple of hours now.”

“You were singing,” Tommy comments.

Adam smiles. “Seems to soothe you when you’re not feeling well.”

“It does.” Tommy find Adam’s hand and holds it tight.

“How are you feeling now?” Adam asks.

“Better,” Tommy answers with honesty. “Much better.”

Adam leans down, softly pressing his lips to Tommy’s. It’s very sweet and careful, but Tommy has missed this Adam immensely and he wants more. His tongue slides along Adam’s lips, and Adam opens his mouth to him. When Tommy attempts to pull Adam into something a little dirtier, Adam breaks the kiss with a chuckle.

“Not just yet, my dear Tommy Joe,” he says.

“Why?” Tommy is not on board with this.

“You haven’t been well at all,” Adam explains. “I don’t want to put too much on you too fast.”

“No way is sex too much too fast,” Tommy assures him. “I’m totally fine for that. I won’t even get out of bed.”

Adam puts his finger up, halting any discussion.

“We’re gonna wait until your doctor’s appointment,” he says. “Which is tomorrow. If he says it’s okay to resume such activities, then brace yourself.”

“I have to get permission from the doctor?” Tommy balks.

“I don’t want you be in pain,” Adam argues.

Tommy cocks an eyebrow at him.

Adam smirks. “Well, not your head, anyway.”

“So it’s okay for my ass to be in pain, but not my head,” Tommy smarts. “Got it.”

Adam laughs and playfully pinches his hip. “I’ll make it worth it, I promise.”

Tommy doesn’t care at this point if Adam’s dick in his ass feels like a hot poker the size of a tree trunk. He just wants Adam, all of Adam, in every way he can take him.

 

“So um, I wanted to ask about these headaches and what they can do. Or might do. Or mean,” Tommy stammers.

He’s sitting in the doctor’s exam room, and thank god the doctor is not Dr Rhine’s double again. This guy is young, laid back, and approachable. And Tommy’s wondering if these nightmares and headaches are related or triggering one another.

Adam respectfully sat in the waiting area, only asking if Tommy needed him to be in the exam room with him for the checkup. Otherwise, he was perfectly fine to sit in the waiting room, giving Tommy space and privacy with the doctor. Tommy was so grateful that Adam just understood he wanted to talk to the doctor alone and was okay with it.

“Are you having other problems besides the headaches and blurred vision?” the doctor asks.

“Well, sort of. I’m not sure where to start or how to explain or what to ask,” Tommy says, moving restlessly on the table. The white tissue paper covering the exam table crinkles underneath his butt.

The doctor takes a seat in the chair across from exam table, leans back, and tells Tommy to just start from where he felt these other issues began taking place. Tommy takes a deep breath, his gaze alternating from the floor to the ceiling to the wall ahead of him as he talks about the “other” reality he’s been seeing and pretty much living. The doctor takes a few notes, but doesn’t comment or interrupt.

“It is quite possible that you are hallucinating and having nightmares due to the trauma your head sustained,” the doctor said. “However, you’re missing large chunks of time in each “reality” as you call them, and that’s concerning. I’ll need to do some research, and get back to you. In the meantime, try to stay calm and relaxed, no strenuous activities.”

“Um, I’m supposed to ask you,” Tommy starts, his face growing hot. He’s blushing, damn it all. “Is sex okay?”

“Is sex okay?” the doctor repeats his question.

“I mean, you know, having it.” Tommy would like nothing more than to run out of the room right now. “Like, with my boyfriend. He wants to know. I said I would ask.”

The doctor suppresses a smile, utterly sure that Tommy’ boyfriend isn’t the only one who wants to know.

“I don’t see any reason why you can’t have sex,” he replied. “Just no bouncing off the headboard, or slinging each other around.”

Tommy’s eyes bug out.

“Just a joke,” the doctor chuckles. “Be mindful of your head, that’s all. Don’t get wild.”

He leaves Tommy with his chart to take to the checkout area, instructing him to make another appointment.

Tommy finds Adam right where he left him in the waiting room, and they head out.

“So the doctor says that sex is okay,” Tommy says casually in the car.

“Oh? Well, then tonight I’m fucking you,” Adam replies, matching Tommy’s tone, and negotiating a turn.

“That’s it?” Tommy asks, looking over at Adam. “I’m fucking you? That’s all I get?”

“What do you mean?” Adam asks, feigning innocence.

“No wooing?” Tommy charges on. “You’re just gonna dive bomb a guy’s ass without wooing him first?”

“Did you just say dive bomb?” Adam asks.

“What’s that about, Lambert?” Tommy asks. He’s enjoying this game.

“What should I woo you with?” Adam inquires. “Should we stop and get flowers?”

Tommy stares at him. “Really? Do I look like a flowers kind of guy?”

Adam gives him a side glance. “Bottle of Jack?”

Tommy’s thoughtful. “Well it’s a start.”

 

Tommy’s first through the front door, and he turns and attaches himself to Adam when he walks in.

“What about the wooing?” Adam smirks.

“Fuck that shit,” Tommy states.

Tommy devours Adam’s mouth, climbing Adam like a monkey and wrapping his legs around his waist and arms around his neck. His cock is already throbbing and getting harder with every lick of Adam’s tongue in his mouth, and he moans. Fuck, he’s waited way too long for this. Adam unbuttons Tommy’s pants while carrying him to the bedroom and gently laying him down on the bed, sliding a pillow beneath his head. Adam yanks Tommy’s pants and shirt off, and quickly slips out of his own. Tommy watches him with wide eyes as Adam gets the lube out of the drawer and sets it on the table. This is it. He’s gonna take it where? Tommy’s mouth goes dry. He wants all of Adam, but this is new and unfamiliar territory, and he’s scared. He knows Adam wouldn’t intentionally cause him pain, but this is bound to be uncomfortable the first time.

Adam notices his anxiety, and lies down next to him, blocking Tommy’s view of the lube. He places a hand over Tommy’s heart.

“I’m gonna make it good,” he says.

Tommy nods. “I know,” he replies, his voice quivering.

Adam leans down and kisses him softly, taking his time, exploring every crevice in Tommy’s mouth, and sucking on his bottom lip. His hand slides up and down Tommy’s chest, arms, then finally down his thighs, and up to his balls. Tommy shudders when Adam gives them and his cock a firm palming and deepens the kiss. He wraps his arms around Adam, pulling him on top to cover him completely. Adam continues stroking Tommy’s sides, hooking his hands underneath his thighs and giving them a tug.

“Spread your legs, baby,” he whispers, nuzzling Tommy’s jaw.

Tommy complies, rutting his cock into Adam’s at the same time. Adam groans, settling between Tommy’s thighs, and grinds down into him. He reaches for the lube, popping to top with one hand. When he gets the gel onto his fingers, he reaches underneath him, and finds Tommy’s hole. He places his fingers there, just rubbing, not pushing. Tommy relaxes, giving in to the feel of Adam’s fingers around his ass. It actually feels pretty good. Adam uses his thumb to rub the underside of Tommy’s balls, and Tommy squirms in content. He closes his eyes and lets out a sigh. Yeah, this is pretty damn good right here.

He pushes his cock up into Adam’s, sliding them together. And Adam slowly pushes a finger inside him. Tommy freezes at the penetration, his whole body clenching. He doesn’t mean to, he doesn’t want to, but still… Adam catches him in another kiss, stilling his finger, letting Tommy get used to it.

When Tommy relaxes around his finger, Adam moves it in just a little more. When Tommy gets used to the entire finger sliding in and out and around inside his hole, Adam adds a second, and Tommy’s body contracts against it, trying to shove them out. The sensation is foreign and just shy of painful, and Tommy feels panic rising. His hands grip Adam’s shoulders, and he’s trying not to pant. He can’t do this. Adam’s dick is way bigger than his fingers, it’s gonna burn like fire, like being impaled on a stake, if it even fits. And, by the way, there’s no fucking way Adam’s dick is gonna fit in his tiny ass.

Adam stills, and hums in Tommy’s ear, his hand stroking Tommy’s hair. The tune sounds familiar. It sounds like the song Adam was singing to him when he woke up yesterday. Tommy focuses on the melody, and watches Adam’s face. Adam rubs a thumb across Tommy’s jaw and sings softly.

“All along it was a fever. A cold sweat hot-headed believer. I threw my hands in the air, I said show me something. He said, if you dare come a little closer.”

He pauses to kiss Tommy. When he resumes singing, his fingers begin stretching Tommy gently. Tommy’s aware of Adam’s fingers moving in him again, but he’s mesmerized by Adam’s voice, right above him, just for him. This is for Tommy only, no audience, no recording company, just Tommy. He cups Adam’s face, his hips unconsciously moving into and with Adam’s fingers.

“Not really sure how to feel about it, something in the way you move, makes me feel like I can’t live without you,” Adam keeps singing as he works Tommy open. He gets more lube to smear on his cock, and Tommy holds his breath in fearful anticipation.

“Don’t,” Adam says, seeing him tense. “Breathe, baby. It’s just me.”

He strokes Tommy’s cock until he breathes again and the pleasure is spiking through him with each pull of Adam’s hand. Adam lines up his cock and starts pushing inside Tommy, still singing softly, and god he sounds like an angel.

Tommy’s eyes close, and he leans his cheeks into Adam’s. Adam’s being so careful, so slow and deliberate. It burns and it feels fucking weird, but it’s Adam. It’s Adam’s body, Adam’s voice, Adam’s soul, and that Tommy can deal with. He even arches up to meet him.

Adam’s voice hitches and stalls when he’s fully inside Tommy. Tommy’s feeling pretty tranquil now that the hard part is over. He’s ready to see what Adam can do. He moves his hips a little under Adam, who utters an almost pained sound and pushes back.

“Oh tell me now tell me now tell me now you know,” he croons in Tommy’s ear, his hips setting a slow and sweet pace.

Tommy moves with him, clutching Adam tight, letting himself get lost in the whole thing. It still burns some, but the slick glide of Adam’s cock is easing him open more and more with each thrust, and he finds himself loving it. He pushes his hips upward, getting a little friction on his cock from Adam’s stomach, and oh yeah, that’s good. He has no idea if he’ll come from this, but all in all, it feels pretty great right now.

Adam keeps singing as he fucks into Tommy, and when he reaches the end of the song, he just starts over without missing a note.

“It’s not just something you take, it’s given,” Adam’s voice catches. “Oh my god, Tommy, this is perfect. You feel perfect, baby. So perfect around my cock.”

Tommy grips Adam’s ass, pulling him as deep as he can possibly go. Adam shudders, breathing into Tommy’s neck. He lifts up onto his elbows, looking down at where he’s pushing into Tommy, where they’re joined. Tommy looks, too, and fuck if that’s not hot, and he spreads his legs a little wider, making Adam groan.

Adam begins alternating between singing and talking dirty. “Funny how you’re the broken one, but I’m the one who needed saving... fuck, you’re gorgeous with me inside you.”

He shifts his angle, sliding his cock against Tommy’s prostate, and Tommy cries out in surprised pleasure. Adam smiles and slides against it again.

“Oh god, Adam, more,” Tommy shouts, his head falling back. “More, fuck yes!”

“‘Cause when you never see the lights.... lose yourself, Tommy. Come on baby, let go... It’s hard to know which one of us is caving.” Adam grips Tommy’s hips, pulling him up to meet his thrusts.

Pleasure strums every nerve in Tommy, the way he plucks guitar strings. It’s so intense he’s almost numb, and Adam just keeps hitting that sweet spot. He melts, losing any and all ability to hold onto Adam as the thrusts become sharper and faster. He had no idea this would be so delicious. He shouldn’t have waited so long and what the fuck was he even scared of? He hopes Adam will want to do this every day because it’s pretty fucking amazing.

“Makes me feel like....I can’t.... live without you, Tommy,” Adam gasps. “I want you to stay. Oh fuck, yes!”

Tommy’s so strung out on Adam’s cock he barely notices that Adam’s got a hand around his dick and is stroking it in time with his thrusts. When he feels Adam’s wrist twist at the head, Tommy begins to shake and beg. He comes hard with a deep groan.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful,” Adam gasps. “I’m gonna make you look like this every day. Gonna make you come like this every day.”

He wraps a hand in Tommy’s hair, still gripping Tommy’s hip with the other, and drives into his ass with short pulses, and when he comes, Tommy can feel Adam’s cock throbbing against his body. He wraps his arms around Adam as he collapses.

Adam gazes at Tommy, brushing a strand of blond hair out of his eyes. Tommy smiles, feeling giddy.

“I’ve wanted to do that for the longest time,” Adam confesses.

Tommy nods, not trusting his emotions right now. He feels like a flighty, blushing virgin, and well, maybe he is in this case. After Adam cleans him off with a wet cloth, he snuggles himself into Adam, nestling his face into his neck. He hasn’t felt this content or satisfied in ages.

He listens to Adam’s breathing level out, then become deeper as he falls asleep. Before Tommy drifts off, he pleads to whatever deity or being that he doesn’t believe in who might be listening.

Please, he thinks. Let me keep this.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, so I can't stop listening to Adam's cover of Stay. So it's included in this chapter. ;)


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy has a drunken accident and wakes up in another reality.  
> Existing between two realities, he will succumb to one, but which one? And is it real?

Tommy wraps his arms around Adam as Adam leans back into him on the lounge chair by the pool. He spreads his legs wide to allow Adam to recline into his chest. He buries his face in Adam’s dark hair; it’s warm and smells like sunshine. Tommy’s been sitting out here for more than an hour now, thinking about what the doctor told him at his appointment earlier.

“You are in a post-concussion syndrome,” the doctor told him. “This is very common after head injuries, although there’s no specific treatment for it. You can experience headaches, nausea, blurred vision, and dizziness, which you have. Hallucinations, however, can be a sign of more serious brain injury, even brain damage to the occipital lobe.”

“Brain damage?” Tommy repeated. The two words were shocking and he’s not entirely sure he heard correctly.

“Your head struck the ground with violent force,” the doctor explained. “And this impact jarred your brain, possibly causing some tearing and bruising to the tissue. The blood vessels may be affected. We’d have to do a CT scan to determine the depth of trauma, make sure there isn’t any bleeding or fluid collecting on the brain. Also, the injury you sustained could’ve caused a psychosis to manifest, which can cause long periods of hallucinations. It’s rare, but it is possible.”

“Psycho, what?” Tommy couldn’t believe his ears. It’s as if Tommy is outside of his body listening to the doctor talk about someone else. Surely he didn’t turn psychotic from a fall?

“The fall could’ve triggered a disorder known as delirium, which is an acute confused state, the conscious level is disturbed, and visual hallucinations occur, as well as delusions. It could also be schizophrenia.”

Tommy sat silently, still not grasping that these theories and explanations and wild guesses were about him.

“If psychosis is the case, we can treat it with sedatives, anti-psychotics, and by keeping your environment calm,” the doctor continued, unaware that Tommy really hadn’t caught up with him yet.

“You think I’m crazy?” Tommy asked in a timid voice.

“You’re not crazy,” he stated. “You’ve had a brain injury, and what you’re experiencing are repercussions. And they can stop any time.”

“Any time?” Tommy repeated. “Schizophrenia can stop at any time?”

“I’m speaking of the hallucinations. Or they could go on for months or years,” the doctor said reluctantly.

Tommy swallowed the lump in his throat, feeling very small and vulnerable. And alone.

“Have you discussed any of this with your partner?” the doctor asked.

“What, that I’m seeing things?” Tommy spit out the words like a bad taste in his mouth. “That I’m hallucinating an entirely different life, different world, and I spend days there when I’m apparently still active and functioning here? Right, I’m gonna tell him that. Keep my environment calm, are you kidding? I’m in a rock band!”

“Tommy, it may be a good idea to discuss this with him,” the doctor said quietly. “To discuss this with someone close to you. It would take off the burden of dealing with this alone. That person could also stop you from doing harm to yourself if you’re in one of these hallucinatory states.”

Tommy just nodded, staring at his lap. Sure, Adam will totally want to date a nut job. One who apparently tried to kill him in another life. He’ll definitely want one playing guitar on the stage next to him night after night. A psycho, isn’t that what the doctor was saying he was now?

Oh god, I’m crazy in the other reality, too, he realizes, and nearly weeps as despair washes through him. He just wants everything to be normal again.

“I would highly recommend the CT scan to see if there are any physical injuries we need to be aware of and treat. I also recommend that you see a psychiatrist, someone who specializes in mental disorders and treatments for them. I’ll be glad to refer you.” The doctor scribbled on his notepad, ripped the sheet of paper off and handed it to Tommy.

Tommy put the paper in his pocket, then mechanically drove home, walked out to the pool, and sat in the lounge chair until Adam came.

He squeezes Adam against his chest, his heart pounding so hard he’s sure Adam can feel it in his back. He’s so scared of what Adam will think of him, what he’ll say. He’s waited a long time to have this relationship, and he can’t bear the thought that it’ll be ripped away. He can’t bear the stigma with which Adam will surely regard him once he hears what Tommy has to say. Psychosis. Delirium. Brain damage.

“Adam,” he finally speaks, hardly above a whisper. “I need to tell you something.”

 

Adam sits in silence, mentally digesting what Tommy’s just told him. And Tommy told him everything. He held nothing back. Might as well go the full mile and get it all out. Now he’s waiting for Adam’s response like a guilty man waiting for sentencing. What he wants most right now is for Adam to hold him, tell him it’s okay, everything is okay.

“This is just,” Adam begins. His hands whirl around as he tries to find the right thing to say and failing. “Wow.”

Tommy chews his finger. Yeah. Wow.

“I’m sorry, I haven’t got the right words or answers,” Adam says. “This is just... I mean... you’ve been living in hallucinations?”

Tommy nods.

“And you don’t know if I’m real. If this is real,” Adam states.

Tommy looks down, feeling ashamed. He shouldn’t have said anything. Now Adam thinks he’s completely off his rocker, and well, he just might be.

“Tommy,” Adam’s tone is direct, so Tommy looks up at him. “You’ve been dealing with this alone. How have you been dealing with this alone? How did I not see? I mean, I knew you were having some sort of comfort issue and bad dreams, but ... I had no clue.”

“It’s not your fault,” Tommy says quietly. “I didn’t tell you, I’m sorry. I was scared.”

Adam’s face is compassionate. “I should be apologizing to you. I’m sorry I didn’t see something more serious was happening. I’m sorry you’ve dealt with this by yourself. I’m sorry you’ve been too scared to tell me. You should never be scared to tell me anything.”

Adam pulls Tommy to him, wrapping his arms protectively around him, and Tommy curls into a kitten-like ball against him. This is all he wants right now. Safety. Love. They stay this way until Tommy’s leg begins to fall asleep and he sits up.

“Okay,” Adam says, resolved. “Hallucinations caused by possible damage, maybe a psychosis. This is temporary?”

“Maybe,” Tommy says. He can’t really remember what the doctor said about it as he was inwardly freaking out over “damage” and “psychosis.” He couldn’t hear much else after that.

“You’ve got a referral to a psychiatrist?” Adam asks, and Tommy nods. “I think you should go.”

“Really?” Tommy asks with a sour expression.

He doesn’t particularly want to see a shrink. He finds psychology total hokum, random guesses by people who have no other goal in life than to tell you what they think is wrong with you and charge you a fortune to do it.

Adam nods. “I think you should. I’m not keen on the idea of anti-psychotic drugs, but this is probably temporary, and this person could help. We need to get you help.”

Adam’s last statement startles Tommy. It’s what the other reality Adam had inferred as well.

You needed help...

He shakes it off and focuses on the here and now. The current here and now, that is. He may think seeing a shrink is a useless idea, but Adam wants to help, which is a relief all on its own, and this is the only way he’s able to this time.

“Whatever you want to do, I’m behind you,” Adam assures him. “You’re not alone with this anymore.”

Tommy chokes back relieved tears. He clears his throat.

“So you think this shrink might help?” he asks.

“Hiding it hasn’t helped,” Adam points out. “If it’s a mental issue, then a psychiatrist would be more qualified to figure it out and treat it. Right?”

Tommy has to agree. Besides, it couldn’t possibly make it worse.

 

He looks around the waiting room. It’s furnished like the living room of an old house: fire place, creaky wooden floor panels with throw rugs over them, paintings on the walls, small knickknacks on side tables, a large photography book on the coffee table in front of him, and the room is lit by floor lamps, not overhead lights. Actually, the office is located in what used to be an old two story house, now renovated and used as office space for various businesses. From what he’s seen of the house so far, it’s angles and corners are intricate and interesting, and it’d obviously been built for a specific family, not just thrown up in a week. Tommy doesn’t know whose idea it was, but he finds it sort of disrespectful to force the house to be an office building of sorts. Then again, it’s better than tearing down the house to a pile of rubble, he supposes.

He shifts around on the plush sofa, staring at the painting of an old, dilapidated barn with a tire swing hanging from the tree next to it. The painting is on the wall across from the sofa, purposely placed there for patients to brood over. Is it a good idea to hang pictures of worn out, broken objects on the wall for people with damaged minds to stare at? How does that make anyone questioning their sanity feel at ease? Were there even such things as tire swings in California?

He feels a hand on his back, warm and large. He looks over at Adam sitting next to him. He smiles, a thoughtful look in his eyes.

“What?” Tommy asks, smiling back.

Adam shrugs. “Nothing. I love you, is all.”

Tommy’s heart swells. He takes Adam’s other hand, holding it tight in his own.

“Do you want me to come in with you?” Adam asks.

Tommy considers this. While he’s relieved that he can talk to Adam about this, he’s not sure if he wants Adam to have unfiltered information before Tommy can even process it.

“I think I’d like to talk to her alone,” Tommy tells him. “This time.”

Adam nods. “No problem, baby. Whatever you wanna do.”

The door separating the waiting area from the hallway to the doctor’s office opens, and Tommy and Adam stand to greet the middle aged woman stepping through.

“I’m Dr Vala,” she says with an accent. Her voice is low and warm. “It’s a pleasure to meet you both.”

Tommy feels instantly comfortable in her presence, and that’s unusual for him. He’s well on the introverted side, guitarist or not.

After greeting Adam, she takes Tommy’s hand warmly, then lets it go, gesturing that he should follow her. He glances once at Adam, who gives him an encouraging smile, and walks through the door, letting it close behind him. They enter her office, which Tommy figures used to be a bedroom or maybe a sitting room judging by the large bay window, and, instead of sitting behind the ornate desk, she sits on the sofa, indicating he should sit next to her. Tommy sits on the opposite end. He can tell she’s a warm soul, gypsy-ish in appearance with long, dark hair, green eyes, and tanned skin, and he’s damn near expecting her to whip out a stack of tarot cards and deal out his future.

She relaxes back into the arm of the sofa, tilting her head slightly, giving him a soft smile.

“Tommy,” she says in her rich tone. “I want this place to be comfortable for you, a place you can come to when you feel uneasy, or upset, or afraid. During our sessions, we’ll just talk. I don’t use clipboards or tape recorders, as I find them distracting. We just talk, and I will make notes after the session. You are free to leave any time you wish, if you feel uncomfortable. I will not take it personally. Our time is about you and what will help your life return to its balance.”

She pauses, and Tommy nods, showing he understands her. She is not at all what he expected, and he likes her. She’s not intimidating or cold, and doesn’t seem judgmental or hard. He’s at ease, surprisingly, and he feels himself relax back into the pillow behind him.

“I understand there was an accident that is still having negative effects on you,” she starts. “I would like to know more about this. Can you tell me from the beginning?”

Tommy can and does, and before he knows it, he’s spilled out everything, being completely candid. Dr Vala doesn’t interrupt him once. Tommy lets out a deep sigh when he’s done relaying what he’s been going through since the fall, from Dr Rhine and the mental hospital reality, to this reality and his new relationship with Adam. Most of all, he expressed his frustration and exhaustion over being worried and scared all the time, of questioning everything. Dr Vala maintained an expression of thoughtful concern while he talked.

“So, am I crazy?” he asks. He’s using the question to let her know his tale of woe is finished, but he’s also kind of serious. People keep telling him that he’s not, but it’s hard for him to believe them.

“Oh no, Tommy,” she responds. “You’re not crazy. As I’m sure your medical doctor told you, your brain has sustained serious trauma and it’s trying to heal itself. When you landed, you hit the occipital lobe of your brain, which affects vision, so it’s not surprising to me that you’re experiencing hallucinations. With time, this may stop on its own, or it may not, depending on the internal damage. I hope you will be getting scans done?”

Tommy nods again. He has the appointment set, and is not looking forward to spending time with his head in the middle of a large, cylindrical object and he can’t move an inch.

Dr Vala hums her approval. “Good, good. That is important. Something else I want to mention in relation to hallucinations, sometimes it can be a psychiatric issue, which is common after a brain injury. Your doctor mentioned delirium and possible schizophrenia, and to determine that either of these is the case, we will need multiple sessions. I’m not sure that delirium is the case after all you’ve told me since you’re not aggressive or agitated. Your depressive, fearful state is due to the situation you find yourself in with the alternating realities, and once that is resolved, the depression will likely go away. But a psychosis occurs for a reason. What that reason is, we do not know yet. It may be physical, it may be more self-conscious or spiritual.”

“Spiritual?” he questions. “But I’m atheist.”

“I’m not speaking of religion, but more along the lines of your subconscious, your mind-body connection. Some theories suggest hallucinations are the spirit world breaking through, so you must live a good life and not attract negative energy. Some say that you should just live with hallucinations and learn to distinguish them from reality. I believe there is a bond between the mind and the body, and when it’s disrupted by trauma, which doesn’t have to be physical, hallucinations can occur as the mind’s way of trying to find its place again, its connection.”

“Okay,” Tommy replies. He’s not entirely sure he follows this, or where it’s even going. His mind can’t figure out where to go? Isn’t that a symptom of crazy?

“What about when I woke up with the gash on my cheek?” he asks. “Was that some sort of mind-body connection or something?”

“Quite possibly,” she answers. “While you could’ve simply hit your cheek on something, the table corner as you suggested before, it could’ve also been a reflection from the other reality brought to this one by the mind and made physical by the body. The brain is still very much a mystery, Tommy. We do not know a quarter of what it’s capable. Whatever you experience in either reality, your mind can carry over to the next, and cause a physical manifestation.”

This is getting too sci-fi for him. No wonder doctors just throw prescriptions and pills at everything. He’s ready to just pop pills and call this whole thing off.

“I don’t like prescribing anti-psychotics,” she continues. “They’re hard on the system and the side effects are worse. Sometimes, they can cause brain damage. They are, in my opinion, a last resort. What I would like to try first is hypnotherapy, if you’re willing. I believe that with this treatment, we can find out where your subconsciousness lies, where it belongs, and maybe why it’s wandering between such two vastly different realities. We want to guide it to where it should be.”

Oh here’s the hokum, Tommy thinks. Hypnosis. That shit that magicians do to make people act like barnyard animals for others amusement.

“I can tell what you’re thinking,” she chuckles, and Tommy giggles with her. “I will not having you flapping around like a chicken. Those are nonsense parlor tricks, and it’s given the practice of hypnotherapy a bad name.”

“Don’t people use this for like quitting smoking and stuff?” he asks.

“They do. It’s used for a lot of different issues, but the bottom line, the point of hypnotherapy is to access the mind-body connection and promote healing,” she explains. “Hypnosis is really self-hypnosis. You do it to yourself all the time.”

“I do?” Tommy’s interest is peaked now.

“Do you ever daydream? Space out, so to speak, during a movie, or drive somewhere and have no memory of how you got there?” she asks.

“Who hasn’t?” he replies.

“That trance is self-hypnosis,” she tells him. “You’re in a hypnotic state, but you’re still in control. It’s the same in hypnotherapy. You are in control at all times. You are aware of your surroundings and what you’re doing and saying. What we do with hypnotherapy is speak to the subconscious mind, increase its intensity of awareness. Then we give it suggestions, attempt to remove psychological obstacles. The goal is to get your subconscious to transmit this and guide you back to where you should be. This is a mind-body technique to set healing in motion.”

It all still sounds like bullshit to Tommy, but what the hell could it hurt?

He clasps his hands together, heaving a sigh. “Okay, let’s do it.”

Dr Vala smiles and gets up. She crosses the room to a bookshelf, taking down a candle and matches from a shelf.

“Would you like Adam to be present?” she asks.

Tommy hesitates. He wants Adam to know everything, and Adam would probably be endlessly fascinated by hypnotherapy, but he might be a distraction for Tommy. He feels bad for even thinking that.

“Another person in the room can be distracting,” Dr Vala says. She’s reading his mind again, and it’s starting to freak him out. “I wanted you to know the option to have him in here is available at any time. I’m not in the practice of leaving loved ones outside the door. But this therapy is about you and restoring your balance. I’m sure Adam would understand that.”

She sets the candle on the coffee table in front of Tommy, strikes a match, and touches the flame to the wick. She turns off the floor lamp and sits back down next to Tommy.

“I want you to focus on the flame,” she says. “Let your mind go, just watch the flame. You’ll hear me, and you’ll still be present and aware. We want to contact your subconscious, that’s all. If you feel uncomfortable or afraid at any time, simply look away from the flame.”

Tommy’s already gazing at the flame and doesn’t answer, but she knows he understands.

Dr Vala is quiet for a while, letting Tommy’s mind drift to other things. The flame dances slightly in a breeze that Tommy can’t even feel, and it’s rather hypnotic. He’s not even aware that his mind has already left the room and is just floating along, touching upon memories, on tasks he needs to do in the future, things he’s already done. It finally drifts to Adam, of course, to Tommy’s audition, their first kiss, their first time. That night at the party...

“Where are you?” Dr Vala asks quietly. It’s almost a whisper.

“The party,” he whispers back. “I’m going to tell him... I love him... but I slip.”

“Where do you wake up?” she probes gently.

“I don’t know,” he says, seeing the wasteland around the deserted hotel again. “Nobody’s here. Looks different. It’s dead. Cold. Dark. It’s scary.”

She gives him time to look around. It’s not so scary this time, really. He knows he’s not really there.

“Do you hear anything?” she asks.

“Voices,” he states, not even aware he’s speaking in fragmented sentences and single word answers. “Strange voices. Harsh. I can’t find him.”

“Who?”

“Adam. He’s gone. They keep calling.”

After a moment of silence, she asks, “Do you follow those voices, Tommy?”

“They pull me. I don’t want to. It’s too bright. Cold. Hate. There’s hate.”

He sees the moment he awoke in the mental hospital as though it’s on a movie reel. It’s a strange feeling, but he’s detached this way, and that is just fine with him. He’s not living it, just seeing it.

“They hurt people here,” he says sadly.

“Can you go back to the hotel?” she asks casually.

His mind immediately sees the barren land again, but he’s above it this time, looking down. It’s dark, desolate, and so void of life. Why does she want him back here?

“That’s the way you came,” she answers. “The limbo point, if you will, between these two realities. You’re lost, shifting between each reality. They both call to you, but only one is real. You belong to only one. You need to go back the way you came.”

Makes sense, he thinks. You get lost, retrace your steps, right? How does he know which one is real? Which one he belongs in? Which way does he go?

“Can you tell me which one feels stronger? More real?” she asks.

Tommy thinks on this. His mind begins to flip wildly through each reality, back and forth, the love, the torture, the hurt, the pleasure. It’s overwhelming, too much, and he begins to panic.

“I don’t know,” he says, his voice rising. “I don’t know!”

The flame disappears into thin ribbon of smoke, and Tommy blinks rapidly, feeling water around his eyes. He takes a deep breath as Dr Vala sits back.

“I blew out the candle because you were beginning to panic,” she explains. “Fear and confusion will lead you to irrational decisions, not home.”

Tommy unclenches his fists and rubs his sweaty palms on his jeans. The panic he was feeling begins to give way to frustration. He’s still lost, as Dr Vala put it. Still has no clue which world is real, and when the fuck this is all going to stop.

“We’ve made progress today,” Dr Vala concludes, and Tommy looks at her in disbelief. “We’ve found the origin, the point at which you lost your way. That is a big accomplishment. We know where to go now to regain your balance.”

Tommy just nods. He’s tired and ready to go home.

“Rest when you get home,” she smiles. “Relax, and don’t be afraid anymore. I’m confident we can find your way back.”

He wishes he felt as confident as she does.

 

Tommy jerks awake, suddenly afraid of where he’s going to find himself. He’s in Adam’s room, lying in bed, and he let’s out a gasp of relief. He’d come up here to nap after his session with Dr Vala. Adam had laid down with him until he’d fallen asleep, but he’s not here now. Tommy slides out of bed, gets the lube from the drawer, putting it in his back pocket, and goes down stairs. He finds Adam sprawled on the couch, watching tv. He looks up as Tommy comes in.

“Hey, beautiful,” Adam smiles. “Sleep well?”

Tommy nods, and climbs on top of Adam, straddling his lap. He snuggles his face in Adam’s neck as Adam wraps his arms around him. Tommy pushes his hips down, his cock into Adam’s. He raises his head, looking into Adam’s eyes, and does it again.

“Someone is revived, I see,” Adam’s chuckle turns into a low moan as Tommy rubs his swelling cock against him again.

He slides his body up, his mouth reaching Adam’s. His tongue circles Adam’s, caressing and needy. He sucks Adam’s tongue as he reaches between them, gripping Adam’s growing bulge, causing Adam to moan into his mouth. Tommy pulls back and stands. He strips quickly, and climbs back on top of Adam. Reaching for his discarded jeans, he pulls the lube out of the pocket and hands it to Adam.

“Open me up,” he says.

Adams eyes darken, and he pops open the lid. Tommy sits up, rising off Adam’s hips slightly so Adam can reach him. The lube is cold against his ass, but warms up under Adam’s strokes. When Adam’s finger slides in, Tommy grabs his cock and strokes it languidly. When Adam adds a second finger, Tommy begins pushing down, making his fingers go in deeper. Adam’s eye glaze over while watching Tommy fuck his fingers, and he adds the third. Tommy wishes he could see it himself. Watch Adam’s fingers disappear into his ass, stretching it open so it’ll fit his cock. The thought of Adam’s huge cock sliding into his ass makes Tommy moan.

He unzips Adam’s pants, pulling out his hard, flushed cock. He strokes it, loving the groan Adam makes. He traces it with fingers, the vein up the middle, the head, over the leaking slit. Adam gasps and swallows hard, his fingers in Tommy’s ass becoming more insistent. Tommy smears lube on Adam’s cock, then lifts up, pulling off Adam’s fingers and settles over his cock, slowly sliding down. He rotates his hips slowly as he slides down, the rigid shaft prying him open wider, and fuck if it’s not the sweetest thing he’s ever felt. When he’s flush with Adam’s hips, he pauses to just feel the moment. Adam’s cock in his ass no longer hurts or feels strange, but full and connected. That’s the best feeling, connected. And he doesn’t want to lose that, ever.

He leans down, pressing the length of his body to Adam’s, and undulates his hips back and forth and circling in a slow and steady pace. It’s amazing how easy this has gotten for him, moving with Adam, feeling the rhythm, relishing the heat. Adam’s cock is so hard and thick, moving so easily in and out, and Tommy can’t help but move a little faster, angling to hit that spot that makes him bite down on Adam’s shoulder and grind down a little harder. Adam pants and groans against Tommy’s cheek, his hands gripping Tommy’s hips.

He sits up so he can see Adam’s face. Tommy’s always thought Adam beautiful, but like this he’s heart stopping. Adam’s mouth is open in pure ecstasy, exhaling breath in short pants and moans, his eyes glazed with that ‘getting fucked and it feels amazing’ look and almost rolling back in his head, and Tommy’s undulations get shorter in movement, sharper, quicker. He wants to make Adam scream for him. His thighs and ab muscles burn with the exertion, sweat is trickling down his face, but he doesn’t slow his pace. That wave of pleasure is getting closer, stronger, and the need to ride it to the end is overwhelming.

The constant stimulation to his prostate makes Tommy’s brain feel fuzzy. Adam strokes Tommy’s cock, rolling his hips into Tommy’s moves, which are becoming frantic. Tommy whines as he watches Adam’s hand moving on his cock, twisting just so on the head. The orgasm actually surprises him, and he cries out as his come hits Adam’s chest. He’s locked in his own pleasure and he knows he should get Adam off too, and he wants to, but he can’t seem to come down just yet. Adam thrusts up into him hard until his body freezes in mid thrust, and Tommy can feel hot liquid filling his ass. He smiles when Adam calls out his name.

With a satisfied whimper, Tommy collapses on top of Adam. He’s squishing his come all over his and Adam’s chest, but he doesn’t care. He’s just so relaxed and comfortable and close to Adam right now. Adam hugs him and strokes his back. They lay there until the sweat evaporating from Tommy’s skin gives him chills. He slowly sits up, feeling dizzy and sleepy.

“I could do with a bath,” Adam says, his voice rough.

“Isn’t a bath kinda girly?” Tommy asks, brushing strands of his sweat soaked hair out of his eyes.

“No,” Adam snorts and pinches Tommy’s nipple, making Tommy squeal. “Join me.”

Not giving Tommy a chance to reply, Adam hook his arms around Tommy’s waist, lifting him off the couch, and carrying him upstairs.

In no time at all, it seems, Tommy finds himself laid back against Adam’s chest, in a hot bubble bath, smiling to himself, giddy with how this is turning out. He’s even able to forget about the other reality, and the dilemma hanging over him. He lets himself drift off from the warmth of the bath water, the feel of Adam’s chest rising and falling against his back with each breath. When he comes to, it’s to the realization that the bath water has turned cold. They’ve stayed in too long, and Adam must’ve dozed off as well. He smiles and opens his eyes.

Oh fuck, he thinks. Oh god, no!

The realization of where he is now slams into him. He’s sitting in the tub in the hydrotherapy room, the canvas tarp buckled down around him, trapping him so that only his head is out. Tommy looks around frantically, a wail building in his throat.

“What are you freaking out about?” the orderly across the room asks.

“Adam?” Tommy shrieks. “Adam?”

“Oh not that shit again,” the orderly mumbles, rolling his eyes, turning back to his magazine.

Tommy’s flight mode is full on, and he begins pushing at the tarp from underneath. He slips his hands up around the edge by his head and starts pushing, trying to force the buckles to give. He flails around underneath, water splashing loudly.

Tommy screams, “No! Adam! Adam! Oh god, no!”

“Hey,” the orderly barks. “Don’t make a fucking mess there. I’ll have to clean it up.”

“Let me out!” he screams. “Let me the fuck out! Adam!”

He continues clawing at the tarp, until despair wins. He cries for Adam one more time, before pulling his head down, slipping underneath the tarp, and into the water.


	9. chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tommy has a drunken accident and wakes up in another reality.  
> Existing between two realities, he will succumb to one, but which one? And is it real?

It’s dark. Cold. Silent.

The world is floating. It’s peaceful. Finally.

He’s released all of his breath; everything is still. His body, his lungs, the water.

Isn’t this what he was trying to do before?

Let me go.

He sees Adam’s face. That lovely face, sunny smile, bright eyes, and the luminosity in them gives way to weariness, sorrow for the friend he loved. The Adam he hurt. He never meant to.

Let me go.

But fate here isn’t that kind, and a steely hand breaks into his floating silence and grabs him by the hair. It yanks hard, and Tommy doesn’t even have breath to yell. When his head is pulled above the water, his body reflexively gulps in air so hard he begins to cough and gag.

“Get him up,” Dr Rhine yells. “Get him out of the water!”

Tommy is lifted roughly, slipping over the side of the tub, and dropped onto the tile floor. He lays on his stomach, shivering from not just the cold water, but desperation. He opens his eyes, water from his drenched hair dripping into them. He looks up at a visibly angry Dr Rhine.

“Mr Ratliff,” he begins with clenched teeth. “What precisely is the meaning of this stunt?”

Tommy lays his head on the floor, and sobs. He just wants out of this place. Why does the doctor even care? The orderly pulls him up to a sitting position by his arm, and starts wiping him down with a towel. There is absolutely no care involved in the act, and Tommy’s still damp when his clothes are tossed into his lap, and he’s ordered to put them on.

Once dressed, his clothes sticking to him where his skin is still wet, he’s ushered out of the hydrotherapy room and down the hall. When they reach his room, the orderly shoves him inside without a word, and slams the door. Tommy hears the lock slide into place. He stands still, staring around the dim little room.

What the fuck happened, he thinks. Everything was going so well. What did I do to get back here?

He can still feel Adam’s touch, his kiss, the rise and fall of his breath against his back. He can even feel the stretch in his ass from fucking Adam earlier. Physical manifestations, that’s what Dr Vala had said. God, he wishes she was in this reality, too. He sits down on the edge of the bed, and drops his head in his hands.

That couldn’t have been a delusion, he begs silently.

But this world feels just as real as the other, and that keeps him on edge and scares the hell out of him.

I will find a way back, he thinks. Whatever I have to do.

 

Tommy jerks awake when the door to his room opens. He has no recollection of lying down and dozing off, but he’s lying on his cot, curled defensively into himself. He pushes himself to sitting when Dr Rhine stalks in and stands before him like a menacing judge about to pass sentence.

“Mr Ratliff,” the doctor begins, and then issues a resigned sigh. “I’m afraid we aren’t making any progress with your condition. You’re backsliding, still holding on to this delusion of Adam and ignoring the incident that got you here. You refuse to move forward.”

Tommy frowns. Refuse? He agreed to that god-awful hydrotherapy bullshit!

“Oh I know you were agreeable to some treatments,” Dr Rhine acknowledges. “But in light of recent events...” He pauses to give Tommy a measured look, and Tommy wonders what is the meaning behind it. “I’ve concluded you are not getting better by these methods.”

Tommy clears his throat. “Well, what does that mean? What am I supposed to do?”

It’s too much to hope, he supposes, that this crack pot would just set him free since he can’t shock and drown the problem out of Tommy. And it is.

“It means, Mr Ratliff, that we will have to find another treatment,” Dr Rhine states. “It will likely be more aggressive than what we’ve already tried.”

Tommy’s heart sinks to his feet. More aggressive? What the fuck can they have in mind? What else can they possibly come up with to do to him? Why do these people even give a shit about his mind?

It’s the suffering, he realizes with cold understanding. It’s the torment these people love, twisting the knife, experimenting with it. They don’t give a damn about repairing the mind, they just want to play with it and see what happens.

He swallows hard, his voice low, “What are you going to do to me?”

“Mr Ratliff, don’t sound so apprehensive,” Dr Rhine scoffs. “Everything we do is for your own good. And we’ll find something that’s beneficial.”

Dr Rhine turns to leave, then turns back again.

“I want you to spend time in the recreation room,” he says. “Being cooped up in here alone isn’t going to do any good.”

Tommy has no interest in mingling with anyone here. Then again, maybe Marie is around. He can’t spend the entire time with her, but at least she’s a friendly, caring face in this world. So he gets off the cot, and follows the orderly down the hall.

Walking down the hall seems to take effort for him. He feels sluggish, heavy. It’s a weird feeling, and he keeps glancing at the orderly to see if he’s feeling it too, like maybe something’s in the air slowing everyone down. The atmosphere is different now. Dimmer, like all the color is being sucked out of the world. When he reaches the rec room, he feels an oppressive dread hanging in the air that, amazingly enough, wasn’t there before.

He doesn’t see Marie anywhere. He scanned the nurses’ station on the way, and there was no sign of her there, either.

“Do you know if Marie is here?” he asks the orderly.

“Who?” the orderly asks.

“Marie, she’s a nurse,” Tommy says.

The orderly shakes his head. “I don’t know her.”

The orderly walks away, leaving Tommy in the doorway of the rec room. He’s disappointed. And now he has no choice but to sit in this room until someone decides he’s been there long enough. He has no idea what being in this room is supposed to accomplish.

Walking to a seat in the corner, Tommy looks around the room at the other patients. Nobody’s moving. Just sitting and staring, as though moving isn’t worth the fight anymore. He sees Jim seated in against the far wall, gazing at nothing. He has a large, white square of gauze taped to the left side of his head. Curious, Tommy heads over to him.

“Hey, man,” Tommy says.

Jim doesn’t respond.

“Hey, Jim,” Tommy says with a little more force. “Jim, dude.”

Jim slowly turns his head. His gaze is unfocused and tired.

“Tommy,” he says, becoming slightly alert. “You’re still here.”

“Yeah,” Tommy sighs. “Unfortunately. Hey, what’s up with your head?”

“What do you mean?” Jim asks.

Tommy points to the bandage. “Your head. What happened?”

Jim brings his hand up, almost like he’s living in slow motion, and touches the bandage.

A loud wail erupts across the room. Tommy looks and sees Ralph, the kleptomaniac, sitting on a sofa, that same a look of despair on his face as he screams, his bandaged hands flail about.

Tommy turns back to Jim.

“What happened to his hands?” he asks.

Jim, looking in Ralph’s direction, says flatly, “What hands?”

“What do you mean what hands?” Tommy snaps. “They’re bandaged, what happened?”

Jim gives him a sad smile. “Why that’s his final cure, Tommy.”

“Final cure?” he echoes. “What the fuck does that mean?”

“It means he can’t steal anymore,” Jim says. “His hands have been removed. No hands, no theft.”

Cold shock runs down Tommy’s spine, making him feel light headed.

“The doctor cut his hands off?” he asks, and Jim nods.

“Trouble is,” Jim says. “his demons are still there, still in his head.”

He doesn’t want to ask, but feels that he should know,“What happened to your head, Jim.”

“Rhine called it trepanation, or something,” he replies. “Cut a hole in the skull, let the demons out.”

Tommy shakes his head, trying to understand what Jim said.

“You have a hole in your head?” he asks, horror in his voice. “They cut a fucking hole in your head?”

“To let my demons out,” Jim responds mechanically. “It’s going to make me better.”

Tommy swallows the lump in his throat. He can feel himself shaking. Final cure? Amputations and holes purposely cut into skulls? He turns to walk away, when Jim grabs his wrist.

“Get out of here, Tommy,” he whispers, his eyes clear and urgent. “I saw someone came to see you.”

Tommy nods, surprised at how tight Jim’s grip is.

“Get him to take you away from here,” Jim tells him. “As soon as possible. Make him take you out of here before it’s too late. Tommy, it’s gonna be too late very soon.”

Jim releases him, the fog settling back over his face, and Tommy stumbles backwards. Fear is coursing through him. It’s one thing to feel you’re in a grave situation, it’s a another when it’s confirmed. How does he get in touch with Adam? Frankly, he has no idea how things ended when Adam visited. Are they still on decent terms? Did Adam say he’d come back? Would Adam even believe him if Tommy told him what was happening here? Fuck, what does he do? And where is Marie?

Tommy glances around the room again at all of the blank faces. There’s no help for him here. No hope. Walking to the door, he tells himself to look calm, don’t attract attention. He looks out into the hallway; empty. There’s no one at the nurses’ station either. For a mental hospital, staff is scarce.

I need a phone, he thinks.

Where is that office Marie took him to? He looks back in the rec room, at a window. The sun is going down, so maybe whoever occupies that office will be gone for the day. He has to chance it.

He looks around again, still seeing no one. He takes a deep breath and holds it, and strolls into the hallway as though he has every right to be there. It takes all the energy he has to look calm as he hurries, his eyes darting in every direction. Finding the hallway that Marie had taken him to, he nearly runs to the office, praying it’s empty. The door is closed. Hands shaking, he grips the doorknob and turns it. It’s unlocked. His heart is beating so hard his vision is shaking as he slowly pushes the door open and peers inside. It’s empty. Tommy praises his luck, ignoring the voice in his head telling him this is too easy, and slips inside, carefully closing the door behind him.

He hurries to the desk, grabbing for the phone before he’s even reached it. The light coming in from the window is dim, and he leans down, squinting over the keypad. Pausing to turn on a light would take too much time, and time is precious right now.

As he punches in the last digit of Adam’s number, the door opens and the overhead light comes on. Tommy freezes.

Fuck, he thinks. It was too easy.

“Mr Ratliff, this will not do,” Dr Rhine announces. “Not at all.”

Tommy can hear Adam’s voice answer his phone, but his throat has closed up and he can’t reply. He hears Adam call his name, and he briefly wonders how Adam knows it’s him. Of course, the number would be on Adam’s caller ID.

Dr Rhine crosses the room in one step, his goons behind him, charging for Tommy.

“Adam,” he squeaks before the phone is jerked out his hand and slammed down, disconnecting the call.

The orderlies grab for him, and Tommy fights. Why the hell not? He’s in major trouble anyway, why not just go all the way with it? He kicks, he strikes, he tries to bite, which earns him a slap to the face. He tries to wiggle out of their grasp, and being so tiny it almost works. But not quite.

They drag him back to his room, and throw him down on the floor. He lands on his arm and cries out, rolling off of it, and cradling it to his chest. He expects Dr Rhine to stand over him as he cowers on the floor, look down his nose at Tommy, and tell him all the horrors he has in store, but he doesn’t. Instead, Dr Rhine and his goons leave, shutting the door behind them. Tommy doesn’t know which is worse, being told what’s coming, or being left to guess.

 

He sits in his room, basically in solitary confinement, for what feels like days, but is really only several hours. His imagination has been running away with him, leaving his stomach in painful knots. He figures it’s likely Adam heard him on the phone, but what are the chances he would immediately come here? Not very good. Adam would figure Tommy just got caught on the phone, which he had, and nothing else was amiss. He resigns himself that Adam wouldn’t be coming for him.

The door to his room opens, and Tommy’s entire body tenses. Red light creeps across his floor from the doorway.

I forgot about that red light, he thinks.

He has a dreadful feeling that he’s about to find out from where it’s coming as Dr Rhine steps in, his orderlies flanking him, the red light making him look ominous. Tommy gapes at him.

“Mr Ratliff, I’m afraid I’m down to my last option for you,” Dr Rhine begins. “We’ve tried numerous treatments, and you’ve not responded satisfactorily to any of them. I have no choice but to try this last treatment”

He’s afraid to ask, but can’t help himself. “What is it?”

“Insulin coma,” the doctor replies.

“What the fuck?” Tommy blurts.

“Indeed,” Dr Rhine, rolling his eyes. “Mr Ratliff, your behavior is completely unsatisfactory all around. The fighting, the cursing, sneaking about and making phone calls. And yes, I know about the first phone call. It was a matter of time before you tried it again. I know Adam came to see you.” Dr Rhine smiles then, sending chills up Tommy’s spine. “He will not be coming back, Tommy.”

“What do you mean?” Tommy can barely choke out the question.

“I had a conversation with Mr Lambert after his visit. I told him that his presence here had caused a tremendous setback in your condition and progress, and it would be best if he stayed away, had no more contact with you at all, until I said so. He agreed, Mr Ratliff. Touching really, he has your best interest at heart, which makes him very easy to manipulate.”

Tears spill down Tommy’s face as he takes in what Dr Rhine said. Adam’s not coming. Ever. Tommy’s never felt such hopelessness before. It’s crushing the air out of his lungs.

“Insulin coma is painless, I assure you,” the doctor continues. “It’s an overdose of insulin, causing your blood sugar to drop drastically, putting you in a coma. You’ve felt your blood sugar drop before, I’m sure, when you’ve gone too long without food. You feel faint, hungry, hot. In this case, we’ll be causing it to plummet dramatically to achieve the coma. It’s a rather dangerous approach, but it has been a successful treatment. Ninety percent of patients, particularly those with schizophrenia, have been cured, although we still don’t know how. I feel it would benefit you, Mr Ratliff.”

Tommy has nothing to say. What’s left? He can’t get out. He can’t get to Adam, or anyone he knows. What does he even care anymore?

“I’ll take your silence as compliance,” Dr Rhine said.

When the two orderlies move towards Tommy, he pulls away, crawling onto the bed, and presses himself against the wall. He can’t bear the thought of being unconscious and vulnerable for a long period of time with these people.

“No,” he shouts at them. “Leave me alone! No!”

But Tommy is no match for the two burly orderlies, and they restrain him easily. He continues shouting and struggling because he can’t imagine just giving in, while the doctor stares impassively.

“What have I done?” Tommy shouts as he being ushered out the door. “Why are you doing this?”

He manages to wiggle an arm loose, and knocks an orderly in the nose with his elbow. The orderly recovers quickly, and punches Tommy in the stomach. Doubled over, Tommy is dragged the rest of the way down the hall towards the double doors with a brightly lit red sign that says SURGERY.

They drag him through the doors. A gurney is set up in the middle of the room, a large light shining down on it. Tommy’s tossed carelessly onto it, then held down while the orderlies secure him to the bed with straps.

“Please,” he pleads. “Please, let me go.”

His appeal falls on deaf ears, as the people in the room bustle about, grabbing bags of fluid, tubes, and needles. Dr Rhine hovers over him.

“Don’t worry, Mr Ratliff,” he says, and his smile is malicious. “You want to get better, don’t you? Rid yourself of those demons?”

Tommy feels a sharp sting in the crook of his arm, and he shrieks in surprise and fright.

“It’s just like going to sleep,” Dr Rhine tells him, although there’s no reassurance in his tone.

Tommy’s voice is already hoarse and gives out quickly. He suddenly feels numb, heavy. And very tired. A nap would be good right about now. Maybe he should take once since he is lying down. He hears beeping, and it sounds like a heart monitor. He hopes it won’t keep him awake.

When he starts to feel hungry, he tries to lift his head because he really wants a taco, but it just makes him nauseous and dizzy, so he shuts his eyes. He can hear the heart monitor speeding up, and he’s getting sweaty. The nausea isn’t subsiding at all, and his brain feels sluggish, like it’s swimming in tar. When he gets short of breath, something is placed over his nose, something that blows air at him, and he thinks that’s a good idea. One less thing to worry about, breathing.

He feels cold air on his face. It’s chilly. Adam should really shut the window. He would do it himself, but it would require moving, and his body feels so damn heavy.

“Adam,” he mumbles.

When he doesn’t get an answer, he tries opening his eyes. His eyelids feel like they’re made of lead, but he manages to open them halfway at least. It’s dark. The sky looks familiar, yet this isn’t where he went to sleep, is it? Another gust of cold air in his face, and he feels slightly revived. He opens his eyes all the way.

_The way you came...._

The thought makes no sense to him. He stares at the sky, then turns his head to the side and sees the hotel. The hotel. The fall. This is the way he came. He eases himself up onto his elbows, and looks around.

He hears sounds in the distance. Voices, noises that he can’t quite make out. An electronic beeping that sounds kind of like a heartbeat. They’re getting closer.

No, he thinks, then gasps the word as he gets to his feet.

“Tommy, where did you go?” Adam’s voice breaks through.

Tommy looks in the direction of his voice. Hope floods him. Life is that way.

“Adam, I’m here,” he calls. “Adam, help me!”

The electronic beating is getting louder. It signals suffering, pain.

“I need you to come back,” he hears Adam say.

The heartbeat monitor pierces his ears, yet Adam’s soothing voice overrides it, speaking straight into his mind.

“You belong here, baby. Come back."

Adam’s voice is renewed strength, and Tommy tries to run in the direction of his voice. He stumbles mostly, but he keeps going. No matter how much he runs, though, the deserted land stretches that much farther in front of him, and his legs feel like lead. It reminds him of that crazy never ending hallway dream.

“I’m here,” he shouts. “Adam, I’m here!”

He stumbles again, falling to the ground. What the fuck is he planning to do? Run all the way through realities til he gets to the one he wants? Frustrated, he slaps his hands at the ground.

_Go back the way you came...._

This is the way I came, damn you, he thinks. What am I doing wrong?

The hotel. He fell from the balcony. That’s how he ended up in this abandoned, in-between world. That’s where this crazy roller coaster started, isn’t it? Is he supposed to fall again? Because that would require heights...

Oh fuck, he thinks, getting up and running to the hotel.

The inside of the hotel is falling apart, literally. Wallpaper peeling, floors rotting, mold, and collapsed ceilings. He charges up the stairwell to the third floor. He has no clue how he can even see in this dark hole that used to be a luxury hotel, but he’s suddenly standing outside the room in which Adam’s after party had been held that night.

Tommy stands there, second guessing himself. This is all been bizarre, but throwing himself off a balcony...

This is like a dumb fucking movie, he thinks.

He opens the door and walks through the dark, moldy suite, the stench of rot assaulting his nose. He sees the balcony, hears the party, the music, Adam’s laugh.

When he gets to the doorway leading to the balcony, he closes his eyes and walks forward with his hands out in front until they hit the railing.

“Come to me, baby,” Adam whispers.

Keeping his eyes closed, he holds his breath, and lets himself fall over the rail.

 

He feels a sharp pain in the back of his head, like a rubber band stretched to its limit and letting go with a sudden snap. He shouts, gasping, and opens his eyes. Tommy feels a warm, fluid sensation take over the pain in the back of his head; it’s almost soothing. It fades quickly. A sense of peace settles over him. Calm.

Adam is leaning over him, stroking the side of his face.

“There you are,” Adam smiles.

Tommy smiles back, feeling the weight of a thousand worlds lift from his shoulders. Yes, he is here. And here he’ll stay. No matter what.

****

Epilogue

Tommy checks his guitar strings, eyeing Isaac beating on the table with his drumsticks. It’s been a month since his ordeal ended. A month of calm days, restful nights, and a lot of Adam in between. Now they’re preparing for the new album. He watches Adam across the room, obsessing over music sheets, pencil in his mouth, a concentrated look on his face. He so fucking adorable with that completely focused look on his face, and Tommy can see his perfectionist side is about to kick in. Tommy smiles. He smiles a lot more these days.

“What’s the sappy smile about, Goldilocks?” Isaac asks, sidling up to Tommy, and tapping him on the shoulder with his drum sticks. He sees that it’s Adam who Tommy’s gazing at. “Never mind,” he teases, making kissing noises in Tommy’s ear.

Tommy takes a swat at him. He turns, setting down his guitar, and bends over his case, retrieving an extra pick. A wave of dizziness washes over him as he stands up. He stumbles back. It’s so fucking hot in this room. How can anybody stand it? He feels clammy.

“Dude,” Isaac says, alarmed. He grabs Tommy by the arm.

Tommy slumps to the floor, a blackness encroaching the sides of his vision, working its way inward. And he sees Adam drop the music sheets he’s holding and run to him.

He blinks, trying to clear his vision, make the haze go away. Adam and Isaac are talking to him, but all Tommy hears is a high pitched beep inside his ears.

A voice echoes in his head,“Increase the insulin. It’s too early for him to wake.”

Tommy’s heart thuds, he whimpers, and closes his eyes, shutting out the nightmare.

Because that’s all it is, he thinks. A nightmare. And nightmares aren’t real. They’re delusions.

He opens his eyes, feeling profound relief when he sees and hears Adam clearly.

“Are you okay? What happened?” Adam demands.

“I’m okay,” Tommy tries to smile. “Just light headed is all.”

“Well you didn’t eat today,” Adam scolds. “We should break, get you some food.”

Tommy nods and manages a smile, even with the uneasy flutter in his stomach. Yes, food. He is pretty hungry.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sad this is finished. But there's no more to tell. Thank you to those of you who stuck with it! I know it wasn't any easier to read than it was to write (emotionally). I really appreciate you coming along for the ride. <3

**Author's Note:**

> & I wanna thank my baby girl I_glitterz for helping me jumpstart this idea. <3


End file.
